


DEFUNCT/BEING REWRITTEN BC:H

by hollo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9685937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollo/pseuds/hollo
Summary: BEING COMPLETELY RE-WRITTEN WILL BE UPDATED WHEN THE NEW FIC IS POSTED!~ part of the Blood Trail - BloodCam AU ~After a year plus together Keith and Lance are living together, and Keith has found himself settling into the rhythm of life as a couple. The future doesn't seem quite as foreboding as it used to, and he finds himself looking forward to the days that will come.But when Lance brings home news that will lead to a trip out west, and a meeting with his family, Keith finds the memories of his past stirring back to the forefront of his mind. There's so much he hasn't shared with Lance yet, and so much he'd rather forget about...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and Welcome to the second major installment of the BloodCam series of fics!  
> If you haven't read BloodCam yet, you might want to give it a try and things may not make the most sense if you don't.  
> BloodCam
> 
> Thank you for coming back! I hope you continue to enjoy the series. Not much to say, other than I apologize ahead of time for shorter chapters - in order to keep from burning out I'm lowering my word count goal for each chapter. If I can I'll writer longer chapters but please don't be too angry if they're shorter than what you were used to with BloodCam.
> 
> If you ever want to find me, I'm [itsdetachable on Tumblr](itsdetachable.tumblr.com) and [itsdetachable on Twitter](twitter.com/itsdetachable)

I realize I didn't do this before so here we go:

 

**Hematoma is in the process of being completely rewritten. Revamped, re-arranged, and will be posted when I've got a few chapters done.**

I apologize for not noting this earlier. This story will stay up, mainly because I hate deleting things. It will however have scenes cannibalized from it for use in the new Hematoma as well as in one-shots that will fill the time between the end of BloodCam (the first) and Hematoma. 

So this story isn't so much not canon in this AU as much as it is... not arranged properly. 

 

Thanks for reading! Sorry for any confusion!

 

* * *

 

Once, a long time ago, Keith had looked towards the future and found it full of promise.

Everywhere he looked, every book he read and show he watched, everything told him that he could be anything he wanted when he grew up. For a while he believed it. Believed in the promise of endless horizons, believed in the limitless.

Even when he lost his parents, he still looked towards the future with hope clutched desperately in his fingers. Even when his case workers changed, when he was moved from one foster home to another, he stubbornly clung to the last shreds of that promise.

Then everything changed.

He could remember, almost to the minute, when he’d stopped _longing for a future_ and started _looking for an escape_ . At the cusp of twelve years old, staring at a closing door with the tears he’d struggled not to shed drying on his cheeks - he didn’t know the importance of that moment until far later in his life, but it seemed so obvious in hindsight. Nothing seemed to matter much after that, except finding a way out of the system he’d been thrust into so unceremoniously. Some days, it felt like he’d never stopped reeling from the loss of his parents, from the loss of _his parents_ , from the loss of the last solid footing he’d felt. Even as an adult, sometimes it felt like he was constantly hovering at the threshold of _something_ , waiting for that final push.

It had made sense to him, to keep moving, to keep forcing himself _ahead_ of himself, into things that would take him far, far away from the system and the people who seemed inclined to never give him a chance. He just wanted out; the Garrison gave him that chance for a while, gave him a glimpse of that future that had been promised to hm when he was a child, a future where the sky spread out before him and the horizon fell away until it barely existed.

Thinking back to it, he couldn’t understand why he’d gone so far off the deep end when the Kerberos mission failed so horribly. It seemed irrational now, but he remembered that it had made sense back then. It had made sense, to try to prove the Garrison wrong, to try and find the pieces they were missing and put them together. He’d lost so much when he’d been booted from the Garrison, lost all the bricks he’d been piling up to build the foundation of his new life and found himself on an empty field again, his only companions the dusty dry ground of the Nevada desert and the stars stretching across the night sky.

But maybe it was worth it, if it led him to _this_ \-  to finding a boyfriend who loved him, who respected him. Someone who shared some of his interests and who wasn’t entirely an ass about those he didn’t share. Someone who helped fill his days and his nights with more emotion than Keith had experienced in a very, very long time.

He wouldn’t have believed it a year ago, and sometimes he still couldn’t believe it. Life had always been waiting to fuck him, up, something always hiding in the shadows to reach out and trip him. He’d felt the tingle at the back of his neck, the chill at the base of his spine, for so long that he’d never imagined living without it. But there he was; and even if the threat of the inevitable still loomed over him when he first woke, or when he felt exceptionally beaten down, it passed.

It passed, and he was still alive and he was happy and he was _loved_.

 

-

 

“Keith!”

Lance’s voice cut through the apartment, shaking Keith out of his stupor. He blinked blearily at the laptop screen, surprised to find himself on story 135 of the Holder series. He wasn’t quite sure when he’d decided to sit down and look up creepypasta while he waited for Lance to get home, but it must’ve been a while ago. His eyes ached and he couldn’t really focus enough to make out the words on the screen. He had the sneaking suspicion that he probably had dozed off at some point.

“Yeah Lance?” He called back finally, rubbing his eyes. The sound of Lance’s footsteps raced closer - was he _running_ ? 

“KEITH!”

Keith winced, Lance just _had_ to yell his name from the bedroom doorway as if Keith wouldn’t have heard him otherwise. Keith would’ve said something about it, but Lance was already throwing throwing himself across the room and onto the bed with him.

“Keith oh my god _Keith_!” He said excitedly, clambering to Keith’s side and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. His eyes were shining and he was smiling so wide Keith’s face hurt just looking at it.

“What’s going on?” Keith asked, eyebrow raised, closing his laptop and sliding it off his knees so Lance wouldn’t accidentally trample it. “Why’re you so excited?”

“Jo called! She called me when I was leaving work right,” Lance settled his legs over Keith’s now-empty lap, Keith slinging an arm around him on reflex, “Keith, she’s _graduating_!”

“What?” Keith asked, puzzled. “But isn’t she a junior?”

“She’s been taking extra classes over her breaks!” Lance was _beaming_ , he looked so very proud. “She didn’t know if she would have enough credits but after checking everything with a counselor, it turned out she did! She’s gonna be getting her diploma in the spring - isn't that awesome?”

“That's really awesome,” Keith agreed, grinning as well by that time. Lance’s excitement was contagious, bubbling between them and somehow making the whole room seem brighter.

“I'm so proud of her,” He said, squeezing Keith's shoulders in a hug as he cuddled up closer. Lance loved his family, but he was especially soft on his younger sister. She wasn't the youngest, that was Ronaldo, but according to Lance she was the brightest and the most creative and she was _going places_. Keith had to admit he liked her as well; they'd only really interacted over Facebook comments, and a few times over Skype when Lance was on a call with her, but he had to say she seemed like a sweet girl. She wasn't as energetic as Lance (but seriously, who was?), but talking to her had been easy from the start.

“This is… it's just a super big deal, you know? Jo’s the first one of us to actually finish college - a _university_ \- in America, you know?” Lance sighed wistfully, shifting around on Keith's lap until he could comfortably place his head on Keith's shoulder. “I dropped out and Maria's been taking courses for _ages_ but Jo she just… She just did it.”

“Did she tell your parents yet?” Keith asked, rearranging his arms so he could hold Lance better. He was warm and solid and he smelled good and fuck, Keith wanted to just...never let go. He nuzzled his face into Lance’s hair, not surprised to find it damp. The forecast had called for showers that day, and Lance wouldn't be Lance if he hadn't taken the chance to just stand in the rain like an idiot.

Lance could've been soaking wet and Keith still would've pulled him close as he did. The past week they'd barely been able to spend time together - with Keith working his morning shift and Lance getting scheduled for the afternoon shift almost every day, they barely saw each other until they got to bed. Or rather, until Lance joined Keith in bed. As much as he hated to admit it, Keith found himself too listless on his own in the apartment to really _do_ anything. He’d wash the dishes, take the garbage out, maybe feed the cats that congregated in the backyard every evening. Sometimes he’d go for a run, but the nights his head was the worst it wasn’t always the best idea. And between all of that he'd usually end up laying in bed with his laptop, much like that night.

“She called them first,” Lance said, letting Keith hold him close for a moment. He was too wired to sit still for long, however, and Keith grumbled as Lance pulled back so he could look him in the face. “She said they're going to try to apply for visas to come for the graduation!”

Keith blinked dumbly, mind skipping, because for a moment there he'd forgotten that Lance’s parents still lived in Cuba and not somewhere in America.

“You'd be able to see them again.” He said, the realization bringing a grin back to his face, and Lance wiggled happily, his eyes shining. Keith couldn’t remember what Lance had said, how long ago it had been since he saw them last - five years? Six? _Seven_?

“They're probably so excited,” He said, for a moment the excitement in his eyes almost blinding. But there was a wrinkle at his eyes that didn't seem to match, and when he spoke next his voice was wistful, “They'll be so proud of her…”

His arms tightened just a bit where they had fallen slack around Keith’s shoulders, his gaze downcast, and Keith didn't like that look because it was the “I'm starting to think about things that make me feel sad” look that Lance sometimes got. It had taken a while for Keith to recognize it, or maybe it just took a while before Lance was comfortable enough to show that much - but Keith didn't like it.

“They're gonna be so happy I see you,” He ventured, hoping that was the right thing to say. He still had some problem trying to figure out how to cheer Lance up, especially since so often Lance liked to act like he didn't need cheering up, liked to get all offended when Keith tried. “Your mom’s gonna hug you so hard she'll probably crack a rib.”

Maybe Keith was doing the right thing this time, though, because Lance chuckled at that, “Oh my god but she would-”

“Your dad's gonna be all...what does he say? - _Que bola, mijo_ ?” Keith pressed on, struggling to remember the unfamiliar words, as Lance’s chuckles turned into outright laughter. “ _Qué eta...estás haciendo… hoy?”_

“Babe no,” Lance gasped between his laughter, patting Keith's cheek fondly, “You're _so bad_.”

Keith hated to admit it - he really, really hated to admit it - but Lance was right, he was _bad_ at Spanish. Horrendous, even. He was so bad Lance hadn't allowed him to say more than _hola_ to his parents whenever he Skyped with them and Keith happened to be nearby, claiming he would die of embarrassment if Keith tried to say anything more to them.  Language skills were not among his talents, Keith had to grudgingly admit, and even after months of pressuring Lance into teaching him at least a few phrases his pronunciation was still utter crap.

It was also one of the only things _guaranteed_ to make Lance laugh, though, so…

“You told me I wouldn't get any better at it unless I practiced,” Keith grumbled. Lance snorted, still chuckling heavily as he threw himself back onto his bed.

“ _Qué estás haciendo-_ ” Lance began to mimic his bad accent but dissolved into a fit of giggles halfway through, covering his face with his arms as laughter shook him. Keith huffed a breath and reached out to lay his hand on Lance’s stomach. He could feel the last shudder of laughter rock Lance’s body, reverberate up his fingertips and his arm as he gently ran his hand up and down his body, and he had to grin himself. At least he could make something _good_ come from his non-talents. He’d been so eager in the beginning, so sure of himself, when he'd first asked Lance to teach him Spanish. He thought it would be a good idea; Lance had mentioned in passing how he was forgetting words because he didn't speak it often enough, and Keith had figured that it wouldn't hurt to learn a bit of another language. He hadn't been able to hold onto any Korean as he grew up, and he knew how it felt to lose your grip on a part of yourself. It was a great plan, he figured - Lance would get the chance to speak his native language more often, and Keith would pick up something new. It couldn't be that hard, he'd thought.

Het been wrong, of course, because it turned out his brain took to new languages like fish took to flight.

“When’s the graduation?” Keith asked after a moment. Lance sighed, letting his arms fall off if his face to the bed.

“Late May, I think Jo said,” He looked over at Keith, smiling, and dropped his hand to meet Keith’s. His fingers ghosted over the back of Keith's hand before he took it on his own, long fingers sliding between his. “Hey...will you come? With me?”

He looked hopeful. Keith didn't think there was any way he could say no, though his first inclination was to do exactly that; it was a reflexive reaction he couldn't really control. The thought of meeting any part of Lance’s family was daunting. What if they didn't like him? What if they didn't accept him?

It wasn't quite rational - he'd already been in contact with Jo, after all, and Lance’s parents as well. He'd already met them, technically, but face to face…

He gripped Lance’s hand tighter, gave him a grin.

“If you want me to.”

Lance smiled happily, eyes lighting up.

“You know it's going to be in Cali, right?” Lance said, “Emilio - the one with the kid, you know - he's probably gonna host the party because he's close by. Jo said she wanted it on the beach but like, everyone's gonna wanna go to the beach so I guess we'll justs we what they decide...but man, everyone's probably gonna pull out all the stops for her.”

“You think so?” Keith asked, trying to decide whether a huge beach party was something he was looking forward to or not.

“Uh, yeah?” Lance said with a snort, “Jo’s the family fave, everyone's sweet on her. I bet my aunt and uncle are gonna go early to help plan it… What's with that look?”

“She's the favorite?” Keith asked, puzzled. It wasn't that foreign a thought, that families had favored kids or whatever - it wasn't much different in foster homes.

“Yeah? I mean, you know, it's just one of those things everyone knows but no one really talks about…”

“No, I mean, I get it, it's just,” Keith eyed Lance curiously. “I thought that like, you'd be the favorite?”

“Me?” Lance asked, wide eyed but grinning.

“Yeah, because you're…” Keith struggled the words that came to him so suddenly - _sweet, adorable, funny, ridiculous, a dork, caring_ \- but ended up with “You.”

“Aw, _honey_ ,” Lance cooed, “That's adorable, you think I'm that special? I mean, I know i'm pretty awesome and it's hard to imagine _anyone_ being better but...Jo is. You'll see when you meet her, why she's everyone's favorite.”

“Well,” Keith said slowly, fighting a grin as he saw an opening. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Lance’s hand gently and locked eyes with him, saying in his most sincere voice,  “You're _my_ favorite.”

The effect was _perfect_ , Lance’s eyes widening just the slightest as a blush spread across his cheeks.

“Sh-shut up,” Lance squeaked, knocking his knee into Keith’s stomach. He looked absolutely flustered, and his fingers clutched Keith’s a little tighter.

“What, can’t take a compliment?” Keith asked, cocking an eyebrow and shooting Lance a smirk.

“I hate you,” Lance muttered, letting his head drop back down on the bed and avoiding looking back at Keith. He was such a dork, sometimes, but especially so when Keith caught him off guard. He didn’t get the opportunity to do so often, and he relished the moments when they came. Just knowing he had the ability to say something that could get Lance so flustered, make him blush like that, made Keith feel _good_ inside, because he knew he was making Lance feel good too.

He rested his unoccupied hand on Lance’s leg, and started thinking about what they should do about dinner. It was late - if Lance was home then it was definitely past ten - and Keith hadn’t eaten yet since a snack he’d grabbed after he’d gotten home. Between doing a couple loads of laundry and vacuuming the living room and losing himself in the mind-numbing excesses of the internet he just hadn’t felt hungry. He was about to ask Lance what he felt like doing, when suddenly Lance gasped.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he shot Keith a shrewd look, a grin spreading across his face.

“Keith! You've never been to the ocean, have you?” He asked.

“Uh, no,” Keith said. They'd had this conversation before, Keith had explained how he'd somehow never made it out to the beach even when he'd been in Nevada. It was too much of a hassle, and the Garrison didn't give them many free days. Besides, Keith had been preoccupied with building his new life, with excelling, with making connections...he'd been so optimistic back then…

“I get to show you the ocean!” Lance exclaimed happily, shaking Keith’s hand in his excitement. “You're gonna love it! I mean, I think you will. It’s gorgeous, Keith, water stretching to the horizon with no end in sight-”

“So kind of like Lake Michigan?” Keith asked, keeping his tone flat despite the urge to grin.

“Uh, no? Nothing like Lake Michigan.”

“It has water stretching to the horizon-”

“ _Keith_ don't you dare compare the ocean to that...that kiddie pool!” Lance pouted, giving Keith a dirty look. “The ocean is a beautiful, untamable expanse of unknown reaches.”

“Right.” Keith said with a chuckle. “I forgot you two are married.”

Lance kneed him in the stomach, again, but he was grinning, that excitement still bright in his eyes.

“Have you been to, uh, _this_ ocean before?” Keith thought he phrased that correctly.

“Yeah, back when Jo was starting college I went to visit.”

“How does it compare? You know, with…” Keith paused, _the one back home_ hanging on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason he couldn’t get the words out. He still didn't know how to mention it to Lance without sounding awkward.

“It's cold.” Lance said with a frown, “Like, you can totally swim in it and everything but it is _chilly_ , nothing like back home. The Atlantic is just so much nicer, I could spend hours in it, you know?”

“That sucks,” Keith replied, thinking about how happy Lance was about going there, and how little swimming he might actually do.

“Yeah, but it's still better than no ocean,” Lance said with a shrug. That made Keith wonder… he knew Lance loved the ocean. He'd even grace the beaches of the lake, Keith in tow, though he'd never actually swam in it. But he reminisced about swimming in the ocean, catching crabs, trying to learn to bodyboard, collecting all sorts of interesting things, and it was hard to understand why he was so far away from any major coast.

“Why're you here?” Keith asked. Lance gave him a questioning look, eyebrow raised. Keith rephrased himself, “Here, and not like back in Miami, or anywhere on the coast?”

“I mean…” Lance looked up at the ceiling, lips quirking as he thought. “I mean, I didn’t want to stay in Miami, it was just… there was too much, there, you know? After the Garrison and after trying college it just… it didn’t feel right. And honestly, while California sounds like fun, I didn’t like it that much when I visited, not enough to stay at least. And after college I was already starting with the cam show - I mean, not BloodCam yet but… I don’t know.”  
He sighed, deeply enough that it moved the hands they still held clasped over his chest, and looked over at Keith.

“I just… ended up here.” He said, “I mean, it’s not a bad thing.”

“Well, not for me,” Keith said, and Lance chuckled again.

“Yeah, yeah,” He said, giving Keith’s hand a squeeze. “Not for me, either.”

-  


Later that night, long after Lance had fallen asleep, Keith still lay awake. His mind wouldn’t stop moving, jumping from thought to thought as he processed the trip that was to come. He wanted to be sure that things would go well - he wanted to be optimistic enough to think that, at the very least, no one would hate him. Jo wouldn’t, he told himself, Jo was always so nice to him on Facebook, and not even the reserved sort of nice but casual and friendly sort of nice. Maybe they didn’t have similar interests but she sent him articles or interesting facts about things every now and then, and she certainly wouldn’t do that if she didn’t like him even a little.

But there would be others, there’d be Emilio and his wife Camila and their daughter, there’d be Lance’s oldest sister, Maria, Lance’s aunt and uncle might be there, _Lance’s parents_.

Keith forced himself to breathe, hoping that the sudden motion, that the pounding of his heart, didn’t wake Lance. His boyfriend had, as most nights, settled in close to him, head resting on Keith’s chest and one arm curled around his waist. Keith had an arm around Lance as well, his hand resting at the small of his back. He trailed his fingers up along Lance’s spine gently, bare skin soft under his fingertips, and then stroked back down slowly. Slow, soft movements rarely ever woke Lance up, especially when he was so deeply asleep, and Keith kind of… needed it, the contact and the touch, needed to feel Lance’s warmth beneath his palm to help ground himself from the whirling thoughts in his head.

Lance shared so much with him, Keith thought suddenly. Well, he was sure there were things Lance hadn’t told him, might not tell him for a while, but he was open with _so much_ about himself that sometimes it made Keith feel guilty. Compared to Lance, he was a shuttered room, full of shadows and unknown. Lance shared easily, and Keith… Keith let go of each part of himself, of each part of his past, every memory and every emotion, painfully. Each exposure was calculated, was weighed, and most were found unnecessary, or irrelevant, or somehow possibly damaging (even if they weren’t, even if it was relevant, even if sharing wouldn’t do anything bad other than _remind_ him). He always found a reason to keep things inside.

There were so many things he hadn’t told Lance, so many subjects he skirted around nervously, so many things he couldn’t stand the thought of speaking aloud. He’d never really shared them with anyone, never felt comfortable with bringing any of it up. Worried, sometimes, of what someone would think if he did. But maybe… maybe one day he’d gather up the courage and tell Lance, tell him _everything_. Maybe not at once, only bit by bit, but he’d tell him - tell him about what happened at the Garrison. What happened with the Kerberos mission, and why it hit him so hard. Tell him about all those times from his childhood that actually mattered. Tell him - and his heart beat a little faster at the thought, his stomach churning fitfully - tell him about the guilt that still ate him up when he gave it half a thought.

Maybe, one day, he wouldn’t be so scared of his past.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're here with Ch2! I'm very, VERY sorry for the wait - quite a few life things came up and I was in a bit of a messy state of mind.  
> I hope you enjoy! :) 
> 
> BloodCam has a tumblr dedicated to it! [JustBloodCamThings on Tumblr](https://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com/)  
> [Also, a BloodCam zine/artbook thing is in the works, click here to check it out!](https://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com/post/157849054039/bloodcam-a-collection-is-in-the-works-this-was)
> 
> If you ever want to find me, I'm [itsdetachable on Tumblr](itsdetachable.tumblr.com) and [itsdetachable on Twitter](twitter.com/itsdetachable)

“Lance have you seen my jacket?” Keith asked, casting his gaze around as he headed into the living room from the hallway. He could swear he’d left it in the kitchen earlier, but it wasn’t there now, and from what he could see of the living/dining room it wasn’t there either.

“Why, did you lose it?” Lance asked somewhat distractedly, “Did you happen to  _ misplace _ it?”

Keith came to halt just before reaching the coffee table, rolling his eyes to the ceiling in an effort to contain the frustrated sigh that threatened to leak out of him. It didn’t really work, and when he looked over at Lance, it was with a scowl on his face. His boyfriend didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in watching the tv from where he lay on the couch, legs hooked over one of the arm rests. At least, he  _ seemed _ to be engrossed. Keith could never quite tell with him, though with the way the day had been going...

“Do you know where it is or not?” Keith asked, not bothering to try and keep the grating tone out of his voice.

“I don’t know, maybe you should check the coat closet,” Lance replied, an edge coming to his tone. He still wasn’t looking at Keith, eyes firmly fixed on the tv. “You know the place where coats are generally hung. The  _ tiny little room _ named for the sole purpose of coats and their hanging.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Keith growled, stomping over to the coat closet. “You couldn’t just  _ say _ it’s in here?” 

“You couldn’t just hang it up there?” Lance retorted. Keith’s grip on the doorknob tightened, he was about ten words away from losing his shit.

“You wanna go get this cookie dough shit yourself?” He shot back with just enough control to keep from tacking on an insult, and sent a glare back Lance’s way. He didn’t miss the way Lance’s eyes darted to the window. There had heavy flurries since the afternoon, and now going into the evening they’d only gotten worse. The windows were already half-covered in the snow, with more piling up as the minutes passed.

Lance’s eyes slid back to meet Keith’s, and a small, hesitant smile spread across his face.

“I...love you?” 

Keith rolled his eyes, pulling the closet door open, “That’s what I thought.”

He put on his jacket, pulling the hood over his head so the snow wouldn’t get in his hair and drip down the back of his neck as it melted, then walked over to pick his keys up from the coffee table. Lance watched him, that smile fading into a surly pout that Keith thought probably wasn’t directed at him. Maybe. 

“I’ll be back in a bit.” He said, heading for the front door.

“‘Kay,” Lance called after him, sounding a bit subdued though he tried to put on a cheery tone as he added, “Drive safe!”

Keith sighed as he pulled the door shut behind him and headed up the steps, snow crunching under foot and already blowing into his face. So, Lance was having a bad day. And it wasn’t that Keith didn’t understand, because fuck  _ he so did _ but Lance was having a  _ Bad Day _ \- capitals and italics included. Keith had been in the bathroom when Lance had returned from his shift, so he wasn't there to see him slam the front door closed. He sure heard it, though, and heard his heavy, pissed off footsteps stalk down the hallway a few moments later. And he knew Lance must've been in a  _ really _ shitty mood when he'd found him clattering pans onto the stove when he left the bathroom a couple minutes later, brows furrowed and a frown on his face.

“You hungry? I'm making dinner,” He’d snapped, his tone setting Keith’s nerves on edge. It sounded confrontational, for some reason, like Lance was going to force him to eat even if he didn’t want to. It made Keith’s hackles raise - it wouldn’t have been the first time in his life that had happened - but he tried to keep himself from biting back even as he hovered warily at the edges of the kitchen. Lance didn’t seem to be mad  _ at him _ , just mad in general, and so Keith left him to work out his anger in the kitchen while he made dinner, slinking off to the living room instead.

He ventured to ask what was up after dinner - and Lance’s face darkened almost visibly, eyes narrowing before he went off on an expletive-filled rant about clients and management and a myriad of things that Keith couldn’t keep up with. He got the gist of it, sort of - after a day filled with nothing but disaster at work, Lance had to wait almost an hour freezing his ass off because the buses were delayed by the snow (Keith could have, and almost  _ did _ , say that he had asked Lance if he should pick him up after work). Sometime during his scathing review of the transit system, however, Lance’s words cut off suddenly as his eyes widened almost comically. 

“FUCK.” He’d exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table loudly. “THE COOKIE SHIT.”

And that was how Lance’s already shitty mood took an even shittier turn, and Keith ended up trudging out into the snowy wasteland of the city to drive to the store for ingredients.

But, in all honesty, it wasn’t exactly a  _ bad _ thing. Keith hated to admit it, but he was the absolute  _ worst _ with dealing with Lance’s bad moods. Well, maybe not the absolute worst because it wasn’t like Lance made it easy on him. Keith had a hard time picking up on emotional cues sometimes, he realized that, and Lance had this stupid way about him where he wouldn’t always be very clear or  _ honest _ about what he was feeling. Sometimes, sometimes Keith would ask what was wrong and Lance would actually tell him and they’d actually talk about it - well, Lance more than Keith and it was more rambling than talking, but either way it’d help him calm the fuck down. More often than not, though, Keith would ask what was up only to have Lance snap back that it ‘wasn’t a big deal’ or ‘nothing was wrong, god, Keith, lay off’. Keith’s nerves would continue getting more and more frayed as Lance continued dealing with his crap in the least useful way possible until he snapped and they argued for no reason whatsoever.

Sometimes, Keith tried to just ignore it - either too frazzled to deal with the whole ‘is he going to tell me or is he not?’ dance or just too tired and feeling too shitty to deal with it. Those times he had to deal with the looks Lance shot him when he thought he wasn’t looking, angry half-pouts and suspicious glances as if his boyfriend was trying to say “what the hell, I’m dealing with shit here and you’re not even paying attention?” 

It was fucking exhausting.

So Keith had grasped at the opportunity to go get the cookie ingredients like he’d been thrown a lifeline. It’d get him out of the house and away from Lance’s snark and maybe, just maybe, Lance would be over his snappy, banging shit around mood by the time he got back. 

That meant he had to brave the snowstorm, however. It wasn't that big a deal, considering Keith didn't mind the cold or the snow all that much. It was just a hassle, especially with the wind changing direction mid-gust and whipping the snow into his face when he least expected it. It didn't help that there had been no parking spots on their street, and he had to walk a block and a half down to get to his car. The snow had gathered in drifts around it and covered his windows and Keith glared at it for a moment. He brushed at the windows half-heartedly, cursing because he forgot his winter gloves - he hated them, to be honest, they felt  _ restricting _ , the only gloves he could handle were fingerless ones - and doing his best to get most of the snow off so he could see where he was going. His hands were freezing by the time he was finished, and he could barely get his key into the keyslot of the door, fumbling as he slid it in and turned it. Shaking off as much snow as he could, he sat down in the driver’s seat and hurriedly put the key into the ignition and started the car. He cranked the heat, holding his aching hands up to the air vent. The warmth had barely risen over lukewarm when his phone began buzzing in his pocket. He groaned, loathe to remove his hands from the vent since his fingers were just getting feeling back, but after a moment he reluctantly dug past his jacket to pull it out anyways. He expected it to be Lance, probably calling him to remind him what ingredients to get or something like that, and he answered without looking at the screen.

“‘Lo?” He asked, holding the phone up to his ear so he could shove his hands in front of the vents again. 

“ASSHOLE.”

That… wasn’t Lance 

“Pidge?” Keith asked, surprised enough that he almost dropped his phone. She almost never called him, preferring text messages, and he couldn’t imagine what she thought was so important that she needed to call him about it. Not that he minded - ever since he’d moved in with Lance they spent less time together than before, and it had been going past a week since he’d seen her last. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to meet Lance’s family this spring?” Pidge’s voice seethed, offended, and her question caught Keith off guard. For a moment he wasn’t sure how to respond. Biting his lip, he put the phone on speaker and set it on the passenger’s side seat.

"Uh... How do you know?" 

"Hunk told me. HUNK. Not my best friend-" Pidge’s voice raised several octaves, piercing in the way it only did when she was actually and truly incensed about something.

"You know I was going to tell you," Keith rolled his eyes. Pidge huffed angrily, loud enough to be heard over the phone. Windshield wipers on, Keith put the car into drive and pulled out onto the street. The snow blanketed the street, and though there were tire tracks they were old and starting to fill in. Most people weren’t stupid enough to go driving to the store for baking supplies in the middle of a snowstorm.

“SURE.” Pidge said, sounding unconvinced. “Why don’t you ever tell me anything important?”

“I told you about the newest article they put out about the EM drive-”

“Don’t be a dick Keith you know what I mean!” Pidge was positively fuming, Keith could practically feel the rage billowing from his phone. He couldn’t understand just why, exactly, Pidge was as pissed off as she was - it wasn’t like her to get so worked up about those sorts of things. He was a bit surprised she hadn’t sniffed it out by herself, looking through Lance’s facebook page or something. 

But why Keith hadn’t he told her? Maybe… maybe because that felt like it would be making it real, maybe because that meant he had to face the facts. 

"I just..." Keith sighed, failing to keep the worries he’d begun to pack away into the back of his mind from flaring up again. "Lance only told me a week ago. I'm still kind of..."

He faltered a bit with the explanation, but Pidge pulled through at understanding, as always.

"Processing it?" Pidge supplied, and Keith wondered how two socially inept people like them could understand each other so well. 

"Yeah," He answered. It still felt a bit surreal, in his head, a far off occurrence that he could avoid if he didn’t think about it. It hadn’t really solidified in his mind, and he hadn’t really thought about it in an effort to keep his more negative thoughts at bay.

"What of they're ALL like Lance?" Pidge said after a moment, voice lowered in contemplation.

"...what?" Keith asked, distracted as he tried to merge onto the main road and barely catching her meaning. Everyone on the street was driving at negative-five miles per hour and no one seemed capable of making room for him to turn into.  He kept inching his way onto the road in the hopes that eventually someone would stop to keep from running into him and he'd be able to pull out.

"You know - loud, obnoxious, talking faster than you can keep up." Pidge clarified with a snort. "What are you going to do?"

"Talk to them? I don’t know what you mean, Pidge." Keith knew exactly what Pidge meant. Every time he thought about the trip, a tremor ran down his spine and he got cold all of a sudden, his breath hitched - and he couldn't really pinpoint why. Well, yeah of course it had a bit to do with whether Lance's family would accept him, Keith supposed. Had a bit to do with the thought of being surrounded by so many strangers at the same time as well. And as sad as it was to admit it, it had a bit to do with the fact that he wouldn't have Pidge close by to run to if he was feeling overwhelmed. The two of them might've been shit at communicating but they managed to be good at just being there for each other. Keith knew it was a stupid idea - he'd have Lance and that should’ve been enough - but it still put him on edge. He didn't know anyone in California. He had nowhere he could go. What if they  _ were _ all like Lance? He was used to Lance and his energetic outbursts and his wild ideas and how  _ loud _ he was but… but Lance was used to  _ him _ too, knew enough to read the signs when Keith needed some time to himself, needed some quiet, needed to just be left alone. Hell, Lance was the one who’d gotten Keith to sit down and think about what it was that set him off so badly, to learn the signs of when he was getting overwhelmed by shit so he could get out before it got to be too much. Keith couldn’t expect that of anyone else, he couldn’t expect them to be able to read when he was getting overwhelmed, and he sure as hell couldn’t expect himself to handle it properly. What if he snapped at someone? What if he said shit he didn’t mean? He did that a lot. Like, all the time. Fuck, what if he said or did something so horrible he’d have to leave? Fuck,  _ fuck _ .

"Keith? You okay over there?" Pidge's voice broke through his thoughts, tone vaguely concerned even. "I didn't scare you into a coma with something that stupid, did I?"

"No, why would that happen?" Keith replied, shifting his grip on the steering wheel. His fingers hurt from clutching the steering wheel so tight, and he forced himself to try and relax. An SUV finally slowed to give him room, and he hit the gas and pulled out onto the main street with a little more speed than he should’ve. "Was just trying to make a turn in this shitty traffic."

Pidge probably didn’t believe him, but she didn’t bring it up again.   
  


-

 

By the time Keith got back home he was ready to murder someone. Sure, it was a snowstorm, and the plows weren't out in force yet, and the snow made the road slippery, but for fuck's sake could anyone in the city drive over five miles an hour? In what reality did he live where it took him forty five fucking minutes to drive five blocks and buy shit for cookies? And then have to drive another half hour just to get back home?

After shaking off the snow as best he could in the entryway, Keith stomped into the living room, kicking the door closed behind him. 

Lance better fucking appreciate this shit, he thought moodily as he set the bags on the table and pulled off his coat. It was wet from the already melting snow so he hung it on the back of a chair to dry, like he was  _ supposed to _ . It was only when he was kicking off his boots that he realized the tv was off and Lance was nowhere to be seen. The tree was still on, twinkling multi-colored light across the room, and if he wasn’t in a shitty mood he might’ve appreciated the ambiance. As it was, he barely glanced at it before grabbing the bags and heading back to the kitchen. He was eager to shove the stuff into Lance's hands and climb into bed. It was barely after eight but he was in no mood to deal with any more shit that night.

"Hey honey," Lance greeted him as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, sounding about ten times cheerier than he had all day. Keith eyed him warily, not quite trusting that cheerful tone. 

"Hey." He replied shortly, and set the bags on the kitchen table with a thud as Lance stepped nearer. "I think I got everything."

"Thanks hun," Lance said, his hand coming to rest on Keith's arm. He seemed to be trying to catch Keith’s eye, the grin on his face slightly uneasy. "I'm sorry you had to go out there, it was probably super shitty."

Keith shrugged, too tired and too annoyed to grin back as he turned to face Lance, "Yeah it was."

Lance’s face fell a bit at that, eyes creasing, “I’m sorry.”

"I said I'd go, so," Keith shrugged again, trying for nonchalance but he was too pissed to pull it off and even he could hear the edge in his tone. 

"Do you want a sundae?" Lance asked suddenly, his hand running gently up and down Keith's arm, trying for that grin again. Keith didn't know who Lance was trying to soothe, Keith or himself, but he looked at Keith earnestly, almost pleadingly. "We still have those maraschino cherries, and we could use some of the chocolate chips you got and whipped cream-"

"Okay," Keith cut in, more to keep Lance from rambling on than anything else. He didn’t feel like eating anything but he felt like listening to Lance ramble on even less. It seemed like Lance was doing that a lot lately, along with being just a bit more fidgety in general, and Keith could only wonder if he was feeling more stressed than usual. It wasn't like he talked about it much, and Keith still had a difficult time getting things out of him. Lance was just too good at making it seem like everything was fine, and if Keith wasn't spending so much of his time with him he'd probably never notice that anything was off.

"Okay?" Lance asked, as if he wasn't sure if Keith had actually agreed to the sundae. Maybe because Keith didn't actually feel like it, and it might have showed on his face - but he forced a grin anyways, even if all he felt like doing was crawling into bed until the morning came. He knew what it was - he knew it was Lance was trying to make up for his shitty mood, and Keith didn't have the energy to be nasty about it. Lance put up with his bad days, after all, it was the least Keith could do to put up with his.

 

-

 

There were things that Keith had been coming to learn about Lance over the past year, and one of them was that - much like himself - Lance had a difficult time admitting when he was being a dick. His reasons for it, however, were a bit different than Keith’s.

In the beginning, Keith thought it was just his bravado and seemingly massive ego that kept him from acknowledging his jerky behavior - but after some time he came to realize that theory didn’t fit well. Lance wasn’t quite as full of himself as he liked pretending to be - he was just really, really good at faking it until he could make it. Distressingly good. But behind that facade, Keith had come to find a shit ton of insecurities and a self-esteem far lower than Keith would have expected. He was starting to get the feeling there was more to it than that, as well, like each layer of Lance’s act he pulled back revealed another layer waiting to be removed. Sometimes, he wondered, if he’d ever get to the center at al.

But it was that insecurity, that low self-worth that Keith thought fueled Lance’s dedication to ignoring his own faults, or at the very least trying to. It couldn’t have been a total ignorance of what he’d done or how he’d acted - because he’d be especially  _ nice _ to Keith after, or clingy, or flustered as he made Keith a favorite dish or fell over himself trying to do  _ something _ to make the situation better. 

Sometimes, Keith wondered if Lance didn’t like admitting his faults, because that would make them real. It would mean proving his own skewed sense-of-self  _ right _ .

 

-  
  
_Bagh Naka_ were extremely interesting, somewhat concealable weapons from India inspired by the claws of big cats, specifically tiger's. Hell, their name even meant "tiger's claws" in Hindi. Their design was kind of simple and absolutely _perfect_ \- a bar of metal with rings or holders at the ends for the pointer and pinky finger to slip through, and four curved blades at the front of it, positioned so they'd be just under the curve of the wearer’s fingers.  A swipe from someone wearing a bagh naka could slice through skin easily, and with enough force cut through the muscle and leave nasty, gaping wounds.

 

It was pure, dumb luck that Keith had logged onto a weapon collectors forum he hadn't been on in ages to find someone auctioning one with only a couple hours left on the counter. For a moment he just stared at the screen, almost not believing what he saw. It was a true  _ bagh naka _ , according to the seller, brought over from India by the sellers grandparent or gray-grandparent. It looked simple and unassuming until you got to the pictures that showed off the curved blades, the sharp points and the surprisingly clean edges, and its deadly potential became apparent.

_ I need to have that _ , Keith thought, his brain unable to process much more than that as he clicked the bid button. It was pricy, the starting bid had been $100 and it was well above that by that point, but he found he didn't really care because when in fuck was he going to get an opportunity like that again? Sure, they popped up on eBay from time to time but at even higher prices than the one the seller had - the last one he saw sold for  _ six hundred dollars _ . And while the autobuy on this one was high, it was nowhere near that price range.

Fuck, he was excited though. He'd wanted one ever since he'd learned of them, found the whole concept of modeling a weapon after a tiger’s claws to be downright awesome. He kept thinking of how it would look in real life, how heavy it would be, how big or small the blades would be. Kept wondering what it would feel like to have it in his hand, to swipe it through the air, to see what it could do to -

His train of thought changed, suddenly and sharply, his heartbeat speeding. His mind was suddenly filled with a very vivid image - the  _ bagh naka _ trailing across tan skin, leaving trails of blood - so vivid that for a moment he couldn’t see anything else. He forced himself to breathe, to blink, refocusing on the page opened up in front of him. His heart was still pounding, his fingers tingling with a rush of excitement. Just the thought of it was enough to get him feeling wired, and he stared at the picture on the screen with a new sense of appreciation.

Christmas was coming, and well… okay, so he had gifts already, but what could one more hurt?

With a grin crossing his face, he scrolled back to the top and clicked AutoBuy.   
  
-   
  


The package came on a Wednesday, two nights before Lance’s last show before Christmas. Keith had come home to find it tucked into the corner of the staircase, out of sight, apparently delivered after Lance had already left for his shift.

Keith couldn’t blame Lance for getting carried away with excitement when his new knife had come in; the moment he saw that simple brown box a thrill ran up his spine, anticipation rushing through his body, and it took everything he had to keep from opening it right then and there. He managed to keep himself together until he got inside and took his coat off. The second he got his hands free, however, he was wrestling with the box to get it open. A knife, he needed a knife to cut the tape - he headed for the kitchen, grabbed a knife from the knife block and cutting the package open. 

There was bubble wrap inside, and another, smaller box with a note from the seller taped to it wrapped inside of it. Keith set it all aside to focus on that last smaller box, feeling the weight of it in his hands for a moment. Taking a breath, he slid the top cover off - and there, nestled within a sponge cut to its shape, lay the  _ bagh naka _ . 

It was a little rougher looking in person, he thought, far more real than on the screen, the steel a shade darker. Keith lifted it from the box and looked at it closely, then ran his fingers along each blade in turn. They were curved sharply, shaped into almost perfect crescents, and they were very impressive even though they were dull and obviously hadn’t been sharpened in a very long time. Slipping his fingers through the rings on either end of the crossbar, Keith let his fingers curve over the blades, and fuck if he didn’t feel, like, several times more dangerous right then. 

The fit was a bit tight though,  the rings pinching his fingers together slightly like the weapon had been made for a narrower hand, and Keith grinned. Lance’s hands were slimmer than his, it was like this  _ bagh naka _ was made for him.

There was a part of him was a bit...unhappy with himself though. He mused on that for a moment as his eyes wandered over the sight of the  _ bagh naka _ fitted onto his hand. He’d wanted one of these for  _ so long _ and it was there, in his hands and he was just going to give it away. But a greater part of him felt alright with it, because he  _ knew _ that not only would Lance love it, he’d  _ appreciate _ it, and… and well, if something else came out of it, Keith wouldn’t mind that either. Not one bit.

 

So he put the  _ bagh naka _ back into its box, and headed for the spare bedroom to find some wrapping paper. Lance had bought some downright ridiculous paper for presents for his siblings, and Keith chose the one with goofy little reindeer prancing across a backdrop of Christmas trees. He took the sponge out and wrapped the  _ bagh naka _ in tissue paper, layered enough that it wasn’t apparent what item it could be. Then he wrapped the box neatly in the reindeer wrapping paper, folding the corners up over the edges and taping them down. After a long, decisive look, he went back to the spare room and picked out a bright blue bow to stick on top of the present. It looked a bit ridiculous because he’d managed to pick the largest one in the bag, and it dwarfed the present, but whatever. 

All he had to do now was wait for Lance to get home.

 

Lance didn’t get back until half after eight that night, looking like he’d been dragged through the wringer again.

“Fuck the holidays, Keith,” He whined, pulling his scarf off sluggishly with one hand. “Fuck them. I don’t wan’em. Make them  _ stop _ .”

“You don’t want the holidays?” Keith asked from where he sat on the couch, holding back a grin. Lance shrugged off his coat, dropping it onto a chair and he must’ve been  _ really _ worn out if he didn’t even hang it on the back.

“Noooo…” Lance groaned. It took him three tries to get one boot off, and then he just stood there and stared down at the other one with a frown, like it had personally offended him. Keith snorted at that, a half-chuckle of sorts, and leaned forward to poke at the present on the coffee table.

“I guess you don’t want the presents, either, huh?” He said casually, eyeing Lance for a reaction.

“What?” Lance perked up almost immediately, head snapping around to look in Keith’s direction. “Presents? What presents?”

“Just one,” Keith said, allowing himself a grin when he saw Lance’s face brighten at the sight of the present. Pulling off his remaining boot, Lance kicked them both off to the side and hurried over to the couch, practically bouncing down next to Keith. 

“Why is there a present? It’s not Christmas yet, Keith,” Lance said, as if Keith had no idea what day it was and when Christmas was coming. His eyes were shining with curiosity though, and he was smiling brightly, as if all his energy had come back. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like waiting for this one so…” Keith said, excitement thrumming through him, and handed the wrapped present over to Lance. “Merry Early Christmas. Or something.”

“This is for  _ me _ ?” Lance asked, like he was still not understanding just what was going on. Keith sighed, rolling his eyes as he responded,

“I didn’t wrap it for  _ myself _ , Lance.”

“Keith,” Lance said softly, his eyes flicking between the present and Keith’s face like he couldn’t decide where to look. “Fuck, I feel stupid, you should’ve told me, I would’ve had something ready for you too-”

“Stop.” Keith said firmly, reaching out to rub Lance’s shoulder gently. “I had to give it to you today, or I’d be like, really tempted to just keep it for myself.”  
Lance laughed, “Okay now I’m _really_ interested to see what this is.”

He glanced at Keith then, eyes narrowing in thought.

“What?” Keith asked, but he barely got the word out before Lance plucked the bow off the top of the present and stuck it on top of his head. 

“Perfect,” Lance said, grinning brightly, then leaned forward and gave Keith a kiss. “Thank you.”

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” Keith grumbled, frowning up at the bow even though he couldn’t see it. He didn’t take it off, though, choosing to watch Lance open the present instead. He was just the tiniest bit of nervous - what if Lance didn’t actually like it? - but mostly he felt anticipation vibrating through his body. He wanted Lance to get it over with, open it and see it and  _ react _ .

“Why are you so good at wrapping,” Lance said, brows furrowing as if this was something that needed to be considered. He didn’t hesitate in ripping the paper off, though, tossing it on the coffee table and eyeing the box curiously. He grinned at Keith, a bubbly and eager grin, and slowly pulled the lid off. Gently, he pulled out the tissue-wrapped item from inside and poked at it curiously. Keith felt excitement jolt through him - this was  _ it _ \- and though he still leaned back against the couch, he tensed in anticipation.

Slowly, almost too slowly, Lance began to unwrap the tissue paper, and Keith could feel his nerves begin to fray. He bit his tongue, trying to keep from snapping, but the urge was too strong.

“Open it already!” 

“Dude,” Lance admonished, shooting Keith a sour look. “I’m just enjoying the moment!”

“Stop enjoying it then,” Keith grumbled, crossing his arms to keep himself from the stupid tissue wrapped present out of Lance’s hands and opening it himself. 

And Lance - irritating asshole that he was - took his sweet time peeling back each layer of tissue paper. He had the audacity to keep glancing over at Keith every few seconds too, a mischievous grin on his face. Why the fuck Keith wrapped it so well, and in so many layers, he didn’t know. He just wanted it to look nice, and he wanted it to not be noticeable at first glance. He wanted it to be a surprise but it was all backfiring now. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , Lance pulled back the last layer of tissue paper to reveal the  _ bagh naka _ . For a moment he just stared at it, his grin fading a bit as surprise colored his features.

“That’s…” He began, looking up at Keith for confirmation.

“A  _ bagh naka _ .” 

Lance breathed something under his breath that Keith didn’t catch, still staring down at the weapon with an oddly surprised look on his face.

“Do you like it?” Keith ventured, a little put off by just how quiet and reserved Lance was being. He was usually a lot more boisterous with presents - he’d practically  _ squealed _ at an ear-piercing tone when he’d opened his birthday present - and this non-reaction he was having right then was making Keith nervous. Was it a weird thing to get? Keith didn’t think it was a weird thing to get. They both liked sharp, pointy things you can cut stuff (or yourself) with - it made sense that Lance would like it. Right? What if he didn’t like it? Fuck, Keith needed an answer, like,  _ yesterday _ , before he got bogged up with regret and embarrassment.

“Keith,” Lance said finally, his voice heavy with emotion as he lifted his gaze to meet Keith’s, “This is the best day of my life.”

“That’s what you said about the machete,” Keith answered back with a slightly relieved grin.  _ That _ time Lance reacted the way he’d expected him to - well, mostly. He’d expected the energetic exclamations, but the tears of joy had come as a bit of surprise. This, though, this overwhelmed-to-the-point-of-silence reaction was something completely out of left field.

“This is  _ different _ , Keith,” Lance said, voice wavering somewhat and… oh no, was he going to cry again? Keith hoped not. He didn’t have anything against crying but he just… even if he knew Lance was happy it made him feel like he’d done something wrong. 

“I don’t know why, but okay,” Keith said, shifting a bit.  

“You’re so  _ stupid _ Keith,” Lance shot back, but he was smiling at him so Keith didn’t count it as an insult. Well, maybe half an insult. A quarter. 

“Try it on,” He prompted, motioning to the  _ bagh naka _ . 

“Yeah,” Lance blinked rapidly, looking back down at the box in his hands. “Yeah, okay. Okay!”

He pulled it out, and slowly slid it onto the fingers of his right hand. It fit perfectly, Keith thought, the curved blades sitting just below his long fingers, the crossbar just the right length to fit the width of his palm. And fuck, Lance looked so pretty staring down at it with that bright-eyed wonder.

“Shit, Keith,,” Lance said softly, moving his hand around and shifting his fingers across the blades. There was a glow in his eyes, a warmth there as he gazed down at his hand. “It feels so  _ good _ . Like… it’s just right. It’s  _ so right _ .”

Yeah, Keith recognized that glow, knew how it felt when something just  _ clicked _ and you knew it was going to be part of you, somehow, someway. It was a hard feeling to describe, but it just felt like something sliding into place, like warmth seeping into you, a feeling that was akin to  _ belonging _ but in a smaller, more contained way. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew it when he saw it.

“I’m glad you like it,” He said quietly, and Lance looked at him then, his grin having gone from blinding to soft and warming. He just  _ looked _ for a long moment, long enough that Keith started to get uncomfortable with the focused attention - and then he leaned over and wrapped Keith in a hug, tucking his face close to his. Keith didn’t hesitate to hug him back, savoring the warmth and the comfort that came with it.

“I love you,” Lance said softly, tightening his arms around Keith’s shoulders and Keith grinned, relaxing into his hold. Pressing a kiss to the side of Lance’s neck he whispered back,

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! And don't be afraid to bug me about updates!
> 
> Just a reminder :)
> 
> BloodCam has a tumblr dedicated to it! [JustBloodCamThings on Tumblr](https://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com/)  
> [Also, a BloodCam zine/artbook thing is in the works, click here to check it out!](https://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com/post/157849054039/bloodcam-a-collection-is-in-the-works-this-was)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, very sorry about the long wait. It's been a rough few months and my head isn't entirely functional.  
> I hope you all enjoy this! :D
> 
> *please note, bloodplay in this chapter*
> 
> [itsdetachable on tumblr](http://itsdetachable.tumblr.com) * [itsdetachable on twitter](twitter.com/itsdetachable) * [justbloodcamthings on tumblr (official BloodCam AU blog)](http://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :D   
> I'll do my best to get the next chapter out sooner!

Show night found Keith curled up on the couch, the History Channel playing muted in the background with his laptop set up on the coffee table. The lights were low and the Christmas tree was twinkling multi-colored in its corner. Feebs, her mottled black and orange fur brushed to softness, was curled up on his lap and purring up a storm. She was currently Lance’s favorite stray, earning that honor after she’d begun waiting for him on the front steps to come home from work every day. He’d brought her in that week because she seemed to have a cold and the weather was taking a turn for the worse. Keith didn’t mind, Feebs was an absolute doll. He was pretty sure Lance was trying to get her used to the idea of being a house cat so that they could take her in permanently, considering the amount of cat toys, beds, and the cat tree he’d brought home from work that week.

Jackass, on the other hand, was devil spawn and there was no way anyone could convince Keith otherwise. He shot a wary look at the tomcat perched on the far end of the couch, back hunched and tail curled tight around his haunch. His bright yellow eyes were half-closed, but the moment Keith’s gaze landed on him they snapped open as if he could  _ feel _ Keith’s attention on him, and he gazed back with a similar look of distrust on his cat face. If it was up to Keith he would’ve left the feline incarnation of a demon outside, but he’d managed to slip through the door while Lance was carrying Feebs inside and Lance wouldn’t let Keith kick him back out. Something about freezing temperatures overnight and how he obviously didn’t want to stay outside in that weather. 

“What if he’s sick and needs to recuperate, Keith?”

Not that either of them would know if he was; not even Lance could touch the bastard cat from hell. The closest he got to contact with Jackass was when he played with the cat wand and the cat would overshoot and end up sliding into him. But, for some reason Lance had a soft spot for the standoffish furball, so Keith had grudgingly agreed to let him stay. Jackass had promptly took up a place on the couch arm and Keith had promptly gone about his day ignoring him.

“Why can’t all cats be like you?” Keith whispered down to Feebs, scratching behind her ears. She answered with louder purrs, turning to blink her pale amber eyes at him.

Sighing, Keith turned back to his laptop. The feed for that night’s show was still dark, and he was getting antsy. Sure, there were still a few more minutes to go but  _ come on _ , Lance couldn’t turn it on a little early for a little banter or something? Keith frowned at the screen and the scrolling chat and tried to curb his anticipation.

He’d honestly thought he’d be over it after all this time, or at least be less enthusiastic about watching Lances shows but he wasn't. He still got a thrill each Friday, still couldn't wait to get home to watch Lance prepare. Once Lance cranked the heat and dimmed the apartment lights, it was over, he was done. All of Keith's attention was focused on Lance, to the point that on his more restless days he'd take to following his boyfriend around the apartment - not closely, not like a creep, but in that vague sort of way where he wanted to be close but didn't want to be a bother. Lance had some very specific ways of preparing for the night, and Keith didn’t want to be underfoot but he just… he just  _ wanted to be right there _ ...

That night was no different, although it was made just a touch more ridiculous that this time Keith’s restless hovering included Feebs, the cat following him from one spot to the other and pausing along with him to peer curiously at Lance, as if she could tell something was up and wanted to know  _ what _ . Lance had found it downright hilarious.

But now Lance had been in the bedroom for over half an hour already and the show hadn't started yet and Keith was getting just a  _ little _ bit frustrated. He shifted on the couch with a sigh, idly watching the chat scroll. His personal chat with  _ PrincipessaDeLeone _ was still up, though she showed away on her notification; her partner had needed her help with something but she'd assured Keith she'd be right back. Keith thought it was kind of funny how easily they chatted with each other, especially how easy he found it to talk to her. Conversation was so much easier online, in text boxes, than in person. They didn't go into details about their lives, of course, but they'd often talk about all sorts of topics while waiting for Lance’s show to start. As far as Keith could remember, she had never missed a show, and he knew Lance often wrote with her as well. 

Finally, the video feed snapped to life. Lance wasn’t visible yet, though he cursed shortly after the feed turned on as something clattered to the floor out of sight. Keith grinned as Lance finally appeared, carrying several knives that he dropped onto the bed as he climbed on.  

“Sorry I’m late,” Lance said, turning to the camera and tilting his head slightly. “I didn’t notice the time. You ever chill so deep you like, snap out of it and it’s been like  _ five hours _ ? Yeah, it was sort of like that. Anyways-”

Feebs’s ears twitched at the sound of Lance’s voice, and she opened her eyes to peer towards the doorway, no doubt expecting to see him. Her attention turned to the laptop when he spoke again, and she let out a curious little meow, shifting on Keith’s lap to see the screen better. Keith petted her back, smoothing down her fur, and though her attention remained on the screen for now she went back to purring soon enough. 

It wasn’t the first time they had cats around when Lance was putting on a show. Keith had been both hesitant and slightly uncomfortable that first time - cats just had this way of  _ looking _ at you like they knew what was going on in your head, and it was even more unsettling than usual when they gave you that look in the middle of watching your boyfriend erotically cut himself on a live feed. The worst, though, had to be when Lance decided they absolutely had to take in the three kittens they’d found that fall and keep them until he could get the no-kill shelter to call him back about taking them. They wouldn’t stop meowing at the bedroom door and Keith was forced to lock them in the bathroom to keep those meows from being heard on the show’s feed. And since Lance would murder him if he just locked them in there by themselves, that meant he had to sit there with them until the show ended.

With a sigh at the memory, Keith turned his attention back to the show. Lance had adjusted the lighting for the show recently, getting warmer LED lighting that changed the show’s hue a bit. Keith hadn’t been a fan at first - so he got used to the way things looked, okay, so maybe he just liked the whole routine of it  _ maybe he didn’t like change _ \- but Lance convinced him to give it a few shows before he made any hasty judgements and… well, Lance had been right. In the end, the lighting really brought out the color of  _ everything _ , from the sheets and the walls and Lance’s skin to all the various shades of blood as it dripped and dried.

“Also, thanks to a special someone, I got one of my christmas presents early this year,” Lance clasped his hands in front of himself with an excited wiggle, and cocked his head to the side as he added, “And of course I’m going to share it with  _ you _ .”

They couldn’t see it, but Keith was certain that had been accompanied with a wink. He knew Lance was enjoying himself with those vague references he’d been putting in the show. He’d never outright stated he was dating anyone, or that he was  _ with _ anyone, but the implications were there, sometimes vague and sometimes not so vague, and it was driving his followers absolutely crazy. They’d gotten so far as to connect this ‘someone’ with the person who’d done the show last Christmas, but after that the theories went in wild directions. Keith wasn’t sure whether he should be worried about the level of jealousy he was seeing from some of Lance’s followers, but he had to admit it was a bit amusing. He’d even joined into the discussion one time, just for a bit, and now almost everyone was calling the unknown person the “cryptid partner”, much to Lance’s chagrin.

“Let’s get started then,” Lance said, settling back onto his butt with his legs bent and spread slightly. Keith’s eyes traced the familiar lines of scars across his body, though he could swear he was still finding new ones each time he looked. The autopsy scars from the year before had faded somewhat, though they were still stark and vivid in comparison to the smaller scars that littered Lance’s skin. They'd been cut deeper, and Lance had kept messing with them as they healed so they stayed thicker even once they healed. 

The chat scrolled, and Lance responded and reacted to whatever the occupants said, but Keith barely kept up with it. Some nights he was more attentive but that night he just wanted to watch, to let the show wash over him and enjoy it. Lance was so engaging and so  _ good _ and he was so  _ pretty _ and when he held up his favorite knife - the short bladed one with a well-worn black plastic handle - Keith felt the thrill tremble through him in anticipation of him becoming, impossibly,  _ even prettier _ . 

The blade caught the light along its edge, a spot of shimmer that raced up to the point as Lance turned it around. There seemed to be a discussion going on for where he should start (these days it felt like the the token meter started at the requests, the tokens poured in so fast at the start of the show). And then Lance was pressing the blade to his chest, just above his right nipple, and dragging it almost softly towards the side. The cut bloodied slowly, droplets beading along its length while Lance lowered the knife. He kept the same knife as he moved to cut again, parallel the first cut and a little higher. The movement of the blade across skin shuddered the droplets off the first cut, sending them streaking crimson down the curve of his chest. 

Keith wanted to be there, wanted to pull his fingers across those trickles of blood and spread it across Lance’s body. He wanted to feel Lance's breath hitch when his fingers ghosted over the cuts, hear the pleased rumble deep in his throat. Excitement trembled through his limbs, anticipation tightening in his joints as he watched the cuts multiply across Lance's skin. They painted a picture so  _ wholly _ him; no one else's warm, brown skin looked quite so delicious painted with the ruby streaks of their own blood. No one else could look so glorious and filthy and beautiful all at once.

Keith hadn't tired of it yet, and he didn't think he ever would. He wanted to be there next to him so desperately - fuck, it was worse than usual that night - but he had to  _ sit _ and  _ wait _ . Shifting unhappily on the couch, he leaned back against the cushions with a huffed breath, eyes narrowing at the screen. He shouldn’t be this anxious but he knew what was coming. The chat was debating what surprise Lance had in store for them but Keith  _ knew _ \- Keith had been there when Lance cleaned the  _ bagh naka _ , been there when he so very carefully sharpened the tips of the curved blades. Keith wanted to see it already, but Lance had a show to put on first. 

He did it well, as always, body movements evocative and sensual, his moans setting tremors dancing across Keith’s spine. He liked when Lance’s voice got husky like that, low and suggestive. He liked when Lance got into it that strongly, running his hand over his body, down his chest, across his abs, smearing the blood in swatches of dark ruby.

He just, really fucking liked  _ all of it _ . His fingers twitched, the memory of that warmth, of the edges of cuts dragging at his fingertips, sending a shudder through him.

It felt like forever before Lance was setting the latest knife aside and cocking his head at the camera.

“Who's ready for their Christmas surprise?” He asked in a purr, shifting on the bed to spread his legs even wider. The chat sped up a bit at the edge of Keith’s vision but he wasn’t paying attention to it. He sat up straighter, gently lifting Feebs off his lap and setting her on the couch next to him. She gave him a puzzled look, but he was pulling the laptop onto his lap before she could climb back on, eyes focused on the screen. 

This was  _ it _ \- Lance was reaching out his hand and pulling it back - and there  _ it _ was - the  _ bagh naka _ sitting on his right palm, gorgeous and deadly, archaic and elegant. Keith wondered if it had been used at all, back when it was made. If it had been used  _ a lot _ . He wondered what it would think, if it could think, being turned from a weapon of violence to a weapon of sensuality. He wondered if it would approve.

Keith did. He approved so much, watching with barely contained glee as Lance slipped his fingers into the holders and let the heavy metal sit against his palm. Energy was coursing through his limbs and staggering up his spine, sending tiny shocks across his skin. He wanted to be there, right next to Lance as the blades sliced through his skin, wanted to be there to catch the blood dripping from the cuts with his tongue...

“Bet some of you know what this is, eh?” Lance asked, reaching his hand towards the camera to show off the curved blades. The light glinted dully off the metal, the weapon looking so perfect nestled in his hand, the blades tucked under the curve his fingers. The chat was exploding, again, and Lance chuckled low and deep as he brought his hand back to his torso. He positioned it at the top of his left pec just below the collarbone, paused for a moment to take a deep breath and palm himself through the front of his briefs with his free hand - and then dragged his right hand down and in. 

The cuts spread thick, thicker than the ones made by his knives, and blood blossomed almost instantly, dripping over the edges in ruby rivulets. Lance pulled his hand away, leaving the full length of the cuts - from the top of his pec to the center of his torso directly above his stomach - on full display.

“Fuck,” He breathed, voice wavering in pleasure. “Oh  _ fuck _ that’s amazing…” 

He lifted his left hand to play at the cuts, the blood welling faster as he poked a fingertip into one of the cuts and Keith _whimpered_ , biting his lip in frustration. Why the fuck - _why the fuck_ \- couldn’t he be there? Touching, feeling the warmth of that blood… He gnawed at his lip, a hand he didn’t realize he’d raised twisting in the strands of his hair. He was so _hot_ inside, roiling with a warmth that pervaded him so deeply. He shifted in his seat, unable to sit still when he could imagine so strongly what it would feel like to _be there_ , and watched with another whimper in his throat as Lance put the _bagh naka_ back to his skin, at the side of his stomach now, and pulled it across in one, swift and smooth movement. The cuts bled as freely as the ones on his chest, thick and parting by themselves, the blood running almost too down his stomach to stain his briefs dark, and the sound Lance made - something like a moan, but more guttural, more _real_ , like an expulsion of sound he just couldn’t hold back - did something to Keith’s already whirling head.

He just… that was his, his gift, his preset, that Lance was using - it felt so personal, even on screen with so many watchers, it felt like it was all just for  _ them _ , just about  _ them _ \- Keith didn’t know what to do with it. Reeling, he struggled to breath, struggled to get back to solid ground, but Lance was smearing the blood around again, his fingers trailing it up to his neck, then down down down his abs and to his thighs, streaks of darkening crimson and the  _ need _ just hit Keith so hard. 

He forced his fingers out of his hair and rubbed his hand across his face. His skin was tingling, the tension in his joints begging to be released, so he moved the laptop to the coffee table and got up. Lance was finishing up, anyways, and Keith didn’t watch to the end these days. He didn’t need to. Instead, he paced his way down the hallway to the bathroom, all abuzz and barely contained, and turned the lights on. He got the kit out, setting it up on the sink counter and opening it so the bandages and everything were in reach. He checked to make sure there were towels, that Lance had prepared some clothes for after he cleaned up. Then he headed for the bedroom, trying to go slow because he wasn’t sure if Lance was done or not. He wasn’t going to hover like a creep outside Lance’s bedroom door, listening to hear whether the show had ended or not, so he headed back to the living room to check the stream. Walking around and getting things ready was taking care of some of that restless energy that had woken inside of him, but he knew he wouldn’t be rid of it completely until he got to Lance. 

Thankfully, the stream was dark, and after closing the laptop and patting Feebs on the head Keith headed back to the bedroom. He knocked on the door first, then opened it slowly before walking inside.

“Hey,” He said as he entered, eyes falling on Lance where he lay spread out on the bed, gas mask still on.

Lance made a soft noise in response, turning his head towards Keith, but no more.

“Did I come in too early?” Keith asked. Maybe Lance wanted more time to himself? But Lance shook his head, shifting a bit on the bed.

“Never.”

So Keith walked over, taking in the sight of him with open admiration. The blood was drying, but some was still seeping out of the cuts made by the  _ bagh naka _ . And fuck did Keith want to get his hands on it, on the cuts, run his fingers over it all -

“Need some help with that?” He asked instead, tearing his gaze away. Lance was fumbling with the gas mask, apparently having some trouble with the straps. 

“No,” He responded, slightly indignantly, but after another moment of ineffective struggling, he sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. “Please…”

Keith chuckled, sitting himself on the edge of the bed and reaching out to loosen the straps. He pulled the gas mask off gently, putting it on the bedside table. When he turned back Lance was looking at him with a pleased smile, face flushed, eyes bright and happy, and Keith ruffled his fingers through his boyfriend’s sweat-dampened hair, grinning back.

“What’d you think?” Lance asked, sounding tired but still eager to hear Keith’s response.

“I think you’re amazing.”

“Flattery,” Lance chuckled, leaning forward, and Keith met him halfway in a slow kiss. 

“Touch me, Keith,” Lance said when they parted, voice low and breathless. He stared into Keith’s eyes with a longing look.

“I don’t know if I should…” Keith answered wryly, evasively, and Lance groaned as he dropped back to the bed. He stretched out fully, angling his body towards Keith as he stretched his arms above his head.

“Do it…” He whimpered needily, reaching out to tug at Keith’s arms.

“Fine,” Keith replied, grudgingly, as if it was with great effort that he reached out and placed his hand on Lance’s chest. Lance grinned at the touch, eyes watching Keith hungrily as he trailed his fingers along the scabbing smaller cuts. 

Keith could feel the shudder beneath his hand, the tremor that ran through Lance each time his fingers caught on the edge of a cut. The blood was drying, tacky in some places, as Keith drew his fingers in slow, languid circles across Lance’s skin. Lance shifted happily under his touch, letting out a pleased sound as Keith’s fingers trailed back up to his collarbone.

“You’re gorgeous,” Keith whispered, leaning down to place a kiss at the tip of one of the  _ bagh naka _ ’s cuts on his chest.

“So you keep telling me…” Lance murmured, voice falling into a breathy sigh as Keith kept kissing along the length of the cut. His tongue licked along the edge and Lance groaned, his hands finding Keith’s hair, fingers twisting in it. Lance’s blood tasted like copper, a little salty and a little sweet, tasted like something completely foreign and yet so completely familiar, and Keith  _ loved it _ . It wasn’t like he was sitting around, lusting after Lance’s blood every day but in those moments, in  _ that _ moment, it just felt so right to taste the blood on his lips, to lick it off of Lance’s heated skin as he trailed open mouthed kisses lower down his body. 

“Oh, baby…” Lance breathed, his body shivering under Keith’s lips. Keith lifted himself a bit, tilting his head so he can look up at Lance. He looked absolutely blissed out, eyelids heavy over darkened eyes as he gazed down at Keith. Keith licked his lips, grinning, the leaned back down to press a kiss to a cut on Lance’s stomach. He sucked a little at it, the flavor of blood growing stronger on his tongue, and Lance  _ moaned _ , arching up against his mouth as his fingers twisted tighter in Keith’s hair.

Keith chuckled, pulling away. He knew what he could do if he kept at it, but there were boundaries neither one of them was willing to cross, boundaries they’d agreed should stay in place for a reason. So he pulled back, running his hand one last time along Lance’s stomach. The anxious energy inside of him had quieted, sated by the sight and the touch and taste of it all.

“Should probably get you cleaned up,” He said gently, Lance’s hands drifting to his face as he sat up.

“I guess,” Lance said with a pout, one of his thumbs tracing over Keith’s lips. He was looking intently at them rather than Keith’s eyes. 

“The sooner you get cleaned up, the sooner we get to cuddle, you know that,” Keith grinned against the touch.

“A sound argument,” Lance said, grin replacing his pout, and he pushed himself up with one hand. The other stayed resting on Keith’s cheek as he leaned forward. Their lips met in another kiss, a little harder than before, mouths parting as it deepened. Keith’s arms wrapped around Lance as Lance’s tongue ran across his lips, dipped into his mouth like he was chasing the taste of his own blood. The warmth within him flared, he felt so good holding Lance like this, kissing like this, just knowing how well they fit together. Keith couldn’t handle it sometimes, couldn’t handle just how happy being with Lance made him. 

“Do you need help?” Keith asked when they parted, unable to tear his gaze away from Lance’s. He could stare into his eyes for ever, fuck, it was like each time he looked at them there was another shade of cerulean he hadn’t noticed. He could stare into them  _ forever _ .

“I’ll handle it tonight,” Lance said softly, placing one last kiss to Keith’s lips before pulling away. Keith helped him off the bed, watched as he made his way out the door. He didn’t push to help - even though he wanted to, badly, wanted to take care Lance in some small way if he couldn’t in some  _ big _ way. Lance just had different ways of coping with the come down after his shows, and Keith had learned to accept that sometimes they included him and sometimes they didn’t. So he busied himself with cleaning up in the room instead, starting with gathering up the knives from the bed and carrying them out to the kitchen. He heard Lance talking to one of the cats over in the hallway, his voice soft and cooing.

Other people didn’t do this, Keith thought as he headed back into the bedroom. He got to pulling the bloody sheets off of the bed, Feebs meowing at his side as she joined him. He took his time, even playing a bit with her, so that Lance would have time to shower before he took the sheets to the bathroom to soak. Once he actually got to work, though, he had to keep pushing Feebs back as she wove between his arms, trying to get to the sheets before he could bunch them up. For some reason, she  _ really _ liked getting to the sheets and sniffing at the blood that had gotten on them. Hoisting the cat up in one arm, Keith finally managed to roll up the sheets, and he set Feebs back down on the mattress. Ignoring her petulant meow, he tossed the dirty sheets aside and got to work pulling new sheets onto the mattress. He arranged the pillows at the head of the bed and piled the covers and blankets on, then grabbed the dirty sheets and headed out of the bedroom, turning the lights off as he left so that the stars on the ceiling would start glowing just the way Lance liked them to.

Other people didn’t do this, he thought again, the sound of running water getting louder as he neared the bathroom. They didn’t bloody their sheets and they didn’t help their boyfriends bandage up all of their self-inflicted cuts. No, they probably had cuddle nights and date nights, went out to movies and made dinner together. Which, to be fair, he did with Lance as well - and often. They just had another facet to their relationship, one he supposed wouldn’t be too well accepted by the general populace. 

“Hey,” Keith said to let Lance know he was coming in.

“Hey yourself,” Lance said in response, looking tired but happy as he grinned up from where he was sitting on the toilet lid, empty gauze pad wrappers littering the sink counter. He’d rinsed off already, and had most of the smaller cuts patched up with butterfly closures. He was working on the cuts from the  _ bagh naka _ as Keith entered, the blood dripping from them as he placed the closures along the length of the first one. “Water’s ready, I think.”

“Thanks,” Keith grinned softly, leaning down to kiss the top of Lance’s head gently as he moved past. He dropped the sheets by the side of the bathtub and reached over for the OxiClean. Surprisingly, it worked pretty damn good on blood stains. He guesstimated the amount he needed, though by this point he had a good grasp on what it was, and swirled the icy cold water to mix the powder into the water. He pressed the sheets into the water next, swishing them around until they were well and waterlogged. 

“Thanks,” Lance said after a moment, and Keith could feel a hand on his back.

“For what?” Keith asked, distracted, as he continued rubbing the sheets under the water. He could've just let them soak, but the stains came out better if he hand washed then a bit first.

“For not trying to fix me,” Lance said, his voice oddly soft. Keith frowned down at the cloudy water, hands stilling. Lance’s hand was still on his back, warm and steady.

“What’s there to fix?” Keith asked, puzzled, as he turned around to face Lance. He wasn't quite sure what Lance was getting at, and he could only assume Lance had had another deep thought session post-show. There was something about that period that oftentimes led Lance towards philosophical, sometimes introspective, musings. Unless he was still wired from the show, or crashing and needing more hands-on aftercare, he'd often spit out non-sequiturs in a curiously detached way as he cleaned up. They weren't exactly baseless, or unimportant - just random - so Keith at least tried to understand them. He failed a lot, because he wasn't exactly good at digging past subtleties, but he  _ tried _ .

Wiping his hands off on his shirt, he focused his attention on Lance. He was grinning at Keith, the hand that had been on his back now curling over his shoulder, pulling him closer. Keith leaned up on his knees, letting Lance pull him up, and all the while Lance  _ gazed _ at him like he was seeing something wonderful. Keith couldn’t meet his eyes, there was something too real there and Keith couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t deserve it.

“You missed one,” Keith murmured instead, eyes trailing down from Lance’s face past his neck to his chest and catching sight of a small, unbandaged cut over his collarbone. Barely thinking about it, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to it. It wasn't bleeding anymore, it  probably didn't need to be bandaged since it was so shallow. Lance sighed, his arms wrapping loosely around Keith's neck now that he was closer.

“You’re perfect,” Lance said, pressing a kiss to the top of Keith’s head. 

“Sounds fake but okay…” Keith responded almost immediately. Lance chuckled at that, lowering his head to rest against Keith's, and Keith took the chance to press his face against Lance’s neck and close his eyes.

So it was one of those moods that Lance was in, the gushing praise moods that Keith somehow managed to avoid otherwise. He knew that it wasn’t some weird side effect of coming down from the rush, he knew that Lance honestly believed whey word he said, and the only reason he said so freely was because he was all buzzed and carefree feeling. It wasn’t even that Lance didn’t compliment him on a normal day, because he did - it was just, he wasn’t usually quite so  _ sincere _ about it, like, his tone didn’t feel quite so deep - Keith couldn’t explain it. There was just a different feeling between everyday moments, and moments like these, after a show where Lance seemed to be baring all, emotionally speaking. It felt more real right then, and Keith wasn’t sure he could handle it. He was relatively sure he didn’t deserve it, not the words or that tone. He liked it better when they just cuddled in moments like these, no words involved.

“You should finish patching up,” Keith reminded, voice slightly hoarse. Lance groaned, his arms tightening around Keith’s neck. “I mean it. Do you want me to help?”

“Sure,” Lance said with a sigh, pulling away unhappily. With Keith’s help they had the remaining few cuts bandaged up in no time, and soon enough Keith was putting the remaining gauze pads and closures away while Lance scooped the empty wrappers into the trash bin.

“Come on, let’s out of here before the stars lose their glow,” Keith said, turning back to Lance to give him a kissing, soft and short.

“Fine,” Lance said, and then his expression brightened. He grinned at Keith mischievously, his eyes glittering. “Did you look at the ceiling?”

“No?” Keith said, “Was… was I supposed to?”

“No, not yet,” Lance said, patting his shoulder as he stood up. Keith got to his feet as well, handing Lance the pajama pants he’d prepared. Lance pulled them on gingerly, shooting Keith a secretive smile. “Don’t look at it until I tell you to.”

“All right,” Keith agreed. He waited while Lance got dressed, and then they headed to the bedroom, turning the lights off as they went. Lance reminded Keith not to look up as he tugged him inside the room, and Keith obediently kept his gaze lowered as Lance pulled him to the bed.

“Okay, sit down,” Lance said, giving him a push. Keith could barely see anything in the darkness, the only light coming from the soft glow of the stars overhead. He was curious what was up there. Was it a surprise? What could Lance have done?

“Can I look up?” Keith asked a little impatiently, climbing onto the bed. It was a bit difficult to keep his eyes turned away from the ceiling as he got settled, but he was sure Lance was watching him like a hawk so he tried to keep from peeking.

“Not yet, Keith,” Lance said, clambering into bed as soon as Keith got settled leaning back against the pillows. He arranged himself in Keith’s lap, pulling the covers up around them as he leaned back against Keith’s chest. Keith nuzzled into his hair, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. He was a comfortable weight against Keith’s body, warm and comforting.

“Now?” 

“Okay,  _ now _ .”

Keith looked up and.... Wow. His eyes widened at the sight spread out above them. The stars were there, as always, but now there was  _ more _ \- thin glowing lines connecting different stars to form constellations all across the ceiling. Some were thinner, some thicker, and a smattering of tiny dots in areas that mimicked gatherings of stars further away. Keith’s eyes traced the lines of familiar constellations; he found Casseiopia, the Big Dipper, Orion… he started running out of names though he recognized the configurations. The entire Northern Hemisphere was up there, glowing softly on their ceiling, and Keith was absolutely dumbfounded at the sight.

“But...how?” He asked after a long moment, unable to tear his eyes away, “When?”

“I didn’t have a shift today so I did it while you were at work,” Lance replied, sounding pleased as punch. His hands came to rest on Keith’s, fingers lacing with his. “I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

“It’s awesome.” Keith couldn’t look away. It wasn't as good as the night sky over the Nevadan desert, nothing was, but it was so pretty. Lance just never ceased to surprise him.

“I wanted to paint the Milky Way too but I couldn't figure out how to do that without messing the rest up…” Lance said, voice beginning to slow with sleepiness. He tilted his head and nuzzled against Keith's arm, sighing contently. “I'm glad you like it. I mean, it's not like a super amazing surprise but-”

“I really like it, Lance. I love it.” Keith said, looking down at him. Detaching a hand from Lance's grasp, he ran his fingers through his hair, over and over until Lance’s eyes slid closed and his breathing began to slow.

“We can paint the Milky Way on the hallway ceiling,” Keith offered softly, and Lance grinned, eyes remaining closed even as he shifted a bit off of Keith so he could cuddle against his side instead. 

“Sounds like a plan,” He breathed, arm wrapping around Keith's waist. 

Keith grinned up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the constellations until his eyes finally closed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Apologies for the long wait for this chapter - there were quite a few things going on along with just my mental state not being in the right shape for writing.  
> We're back, we're not going anywhere. :)
> 
> One thing I'm running into that is a bit tiring (though fun!) is that I'm trying to both keep true to their characters and personalities while also extrapolating them into these AU and these situations. It's a bit of a workout - let me know how you think I'm doing?
> 
> [itsdetachable on tumblr](http://itsdetachable.tumblr.com) [Just BloodCam Things on tumblr](http://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com) [itsdetachable on twitter](https://twitter.com/itsdetachable)

“I can't believe you didn't tell me,” Lance said angrily, shoving the shopping cart at a brisk pace down the aisle. If it wasn’t apparent by the sharp tone of his voice that he was  _ pissed _ , it was visibly apparent in the way he manhandled the cart around a corner, shoving it roughly when it didn’t turn fast enough for his liking. Keith followed a few steps behind, teeth gritted as he tried to tamp down his irritation at the situation. He loved Lance, he loved him  _ so much _ , but some days… 

He forced himself off that train of thought. It wasn’t like Lance was the one at fault here, after all. The thought sobered him a bit, fizzled the annoyance to almost nothing.

“A year we’ve been together,” Lance was muttering, shoulders slumped slightly, as he rolled the cart to a stop in front of the breads.

“I forgot,” Keith said defensively - snapping reactively,  _ as always _ \- looking at the breads so he didn’t have to look at Lance, but there was really no defending it. He’d known Lance would figure it out one day - that Keith was the one behind the JetEngineFodder blog - and he’d promised himself over and over that he’d tell Lance finally. Each time he did, though, it would just happen to be on a day that Lance was looking through the blog, or bringing up some interesting fact he’d read on the blog, and Keith would see how excited and happy he was and the urge to tell him would slowly dissipate. He knew,  _ he knew _ , how touchy the subject of “Keith got to fly and Lance couldn’t make it” was between them, and he didn’t have the heart to tell Lance that the blog he loved so much, the blog Lance had called so knowledgeable about aviation, was being written by  _ him _ . Keith thought he was doing him a favor, really.

The slight tremor of trepidation at the thought of Lance finding out should’ve made it apparent that  _ Lance _ wasn’t the one he was trying to spare in the situation.

In the end it was Keith’s own fault, really, that he got exposed. He’d forgotten that one of the first posts he’d ever made on the blog included a picture of him standing in front of the F-35 he’d been training on at the Garrison. And to make matters worse, it couldn’t have been that  _ Lance  _ had stumbled upon it by accident, no. Keith’s luck was absolute shit, and it was  _ Hunk _ , who, while checking out the blog at Lance’s insistence, had dug through the archives and found the picture, and then promptly told Lance in what Keith hoped was an honest mistake sort of way and not a malicious way,

“I was going to tell you,” Keith offered hesitantly after a few moments of awkward silence, letting his eyes slide back to Lance. Lance snorted, turning to shoot a hard, narrow-eyed look at him. 

“I have to find out by  _ accident _ -” He huffed, shoulders set in a pronounced hunch. “From  _ someone else _ -”

“I  _ was _ going to tell you,” Keith protested weakly, crossing his arms and half turning away. “I just...forgot…”

“It’s like you have a secret life, like, I don’t even know who you  _ are _ .”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Keith muttered back, dodging his gaze away again. 

Lance was so often bright and energetic and self-promoting that sometimes it was difficult to remember that insecurity lurked just below the surface. Most days Keith barely caught a glimpse of it, sometimes he completely  _ forgot _ about it, Lance was so good at hiding it - and then some days it would burst out when Keith least expected it. Like right then, in the middle of the grocery store. And Keith tried to be good about it, he really  _ really _ did, because he knew how fucked up it could be to feel so uncertain about yourself, but sometimes he just wished Lance would just… stop. Just cut the dramatics out for once. Especially when he had all morning to throw a fit about it and decided to do it once they were out in public, where everyone could hear them. Sighing, he eyed the loaves of bread that were marked on sale on the shelf in front of him, and tried to remind himself that if  _ just stopping _ would be the answer to psychological issues, they’d both be living a far easier life.

He reached for a loaf of white toast bread, only to have Lance pull it out of his hands suddenly.

“Lance…”

“Whole grain is better for you,” Lance replied sharply, tossing the bread back on the shelf. Keith gave him a surly look as he stepped over to the darker breads, the ten year old still trapped within him unable to keep from surfacing as he hoped Lance could  _ feel _ just how irritated he was.

“I don't like how it tastes,” He grumbled, pulling a random loaf off the shelf of whole grain breads. 

“Tough shit.” Lance leaned low over the cart handle as Keith walked over with the loaf. Keith placed it into the area just in front of the handle to keep it from being smashed by the cans they had in the main part of the cart.

“What else do we need?” He asked as he stepped back, crossing his arms again and eyeing Lance warily. 

“I don’t know,” Lance groaned, standing back up but not moving the cart. He looked restless and irritated, and Keith just wanted him...not to be. Which wasn’t fair, to be honest - Keith should’ve been trying harder to be apologetic but then, he’d never been one to deal well with guilt. He’d never been one to deal well with most emotions, when it came down to it.

“Why is this pissing you off so much?” He asked finally, and Lance’s face scrunched up.

“It’s just… couldn’t you have told me?” He asked, this time sounding less pissed and more defeated. Let down. He met Keith’s eyes, tone venturing into incredulous, “You’re posting like, a few times a month. I know that’s not a lot of but still, dude, at no moment did you go “Oh hey, I’m putting a post on the blog that Lance doesn’t know I write but reads, maybe I should tell him”. Like, didn’t it cross your mind? At all?”

Keith looked away, “I did think about it I just… It’s… I was just...” 

Lance groaned again, apparently not willing to wait and see if Keith actually had an answer, and began to push the cart further down the aisle. They headed on in uncomfortable, brooding silence, Lance grabbing something of the shelves every now and then or telling Keith to grab something. Keith hated it, really, all the more so because he knew he was the cause of it. He could’ve fixed it all before it had even happened, if he’d only told Lance at any point in the past year. But it had been easier to ignore it and pretend the chance of Lance finding out it was  _ him _ was nonexistent.

Except that Lance had found out, and while it wasn’t something life-changing, it was still a secret he had kept from him. 

Lance stopped the cart by a display of paper towels, looking them over with a critical eye. They weren’t their usual brand, Keith noted, but they were on sale. He drifted on past Lance, finding himself in the cookie aisle. They had plenty of snacks at home but each time he was in the store, Keith found himself checking to see if the orange Milano cookies were on sale. He couldn’t justify buying them otherwise - they were too pricey, and between him and Lance the pack only lasted a day on average. It really wasn’t worth paying the full price. The fates were smiling on him, however, as his eyes caught sight of the yellow sticker underneath the cookies. Grinning, he grabbed a pack and headed back to the head of the aisle. Lance had apparently decided to get a pack of the paper towels and had already placed one inside the cart. As he stepped back, Keith took a second to aim and tossed the cookies towards the cart.

They never made it - Lance slapped the pack away just as it was about to fall into the cart. For a long moment the two of them stood there staring at each other - Lance looked about as shocked as Keith felt. 

“Shit,” he said softly, though a grin was trying to inch its way onto his face, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that - it was  _ reflexes _ .”

Keith narrowed his eyes at him, saying nothing as he walked over to where the cookies had fallen. The pack didn’t look too beat up, but who knew if the cookies inside were damaged. He looked back at Lance, their eyes meeting, as he slowly and carefully tucked the pack of cookies into his jacket.

“Did...did you just put them in your jacket?” Lance asked in confusion. 

“You’ve already wounded them once,” Keith shot back, crossing his arms. Lance continued giving him that confused look, like he had no idea what to say, so Keith just turned and headed on down the aisle. After a moment he heard Lance mutter something, too low to be understood, and the cart’s squeaky wheels followed him.

They headed on through the store, passing the seasonal items aisle where everything was marked down massively. Keith’s eyes roved over the masses of Christmas themed items, conflicted emotions waking inside of him.

He wasn’t a fan of Christmas. It just seemed  _ too much _ \- too much forced cheer and too much happy and too much energy throughout the season. It didn’t help that his job was absolute hell over the holidays, with trucks running late or breaking down or getting caught in blizzards or lost somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He just didn’t associate Christmas with anything positive, other than Pidge and her presents, possibly. 

Being with Lance was changing that, at least a little. Lance enjoyed the fuck out of the holiday, and he forced Keith to take part in at least the more enjoyable aspects of it, like decorating the tree and the banister outside or building snowmen. He even enjoyed those sappy rom-com Christmas movies that would come on TV - Keith couldn’t stand them, they left a bad taste in his mouth and if he did watch one it was only because he wanted to spend some time with Lance. Still, even though there were plenty of things that turned Keith’s stomach about Christmas - mall Santas, peppermint  _ everything _ , the way you couldn’t tell who was faking their “Happy Holidays” and you had to assume that  _ everyone was _ \- he was warming up to the idea more each year.

It helped that he actually had someone to spend time with during Christmas now, someone to exchange gifts that actually meant something with. This year they’d even seemed to be on the same wavelength with Lance - outside of the movies Keith had gotten Lance and the X-Files shirt Lance had gotten him because his old one was fading and beginning to get holes in it, they’d gotten each other helpful presents too. Lance had gotten Keith  _ two _ weighted sensory blankets because he was apparently worried that Keith would wrap himself too tight in his masses of blankets on one of his bad days and overheat and die or something -  _ “you can’t die before me Keith I’m not gonna allow it, I’m sorry _ ”. Keith hadn’t been sure of how well they would work, until he actually tried them and it turned out  _ they worked so good _ . And he didn’t feel like he was going to suffocate under them either. Knowing that Lance was caring about his well being wasn’t bad, either. Keith cared about Lance’s well being too, which is why he spent weeks looking up different fidget toys online and comparing reviews. It hadn’t escaped his attention that the more worked up Lance got about something, the more he tended to fidget with things, messing around with papers or pens or anything he could get his hands on. He was very tactile, and Keith had finally settled on a couple spinner rings and a necklace that he thought Lance would like. One of the rings had stars and moons on it, the other had fish and an octopus sea theme, while the necklace had a Saturn shaped pendant with all seven rings made in varying thicknesses, all of them able to be spun independently of each other. He thought he did good, considering how excited Lance got over them, considering just how often Lance wore at least one of them during each day. 

Good, thoughtful gifts definitely made the holiday more bearable, Keith thought. The sight of the post-holiday Christmas aisle, however, was just plain painful to look at. Christmas was all about joy and happiness, or it was supposed to be, and seeing all the decorations and stuff laying around in dejected, haphazard piles was uncomfortable. It felt like there was some sort of symbolic meaning to all of it, something stupid like “happiness is fleeting” or something.

“Hey, that cake mix you liked is marked down. That mint-chocolate one,” Lance said suddenly, pulling Keith out of his thoughts. “Do you want a couple?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Keith said, turning back to him with a puzzled look. He didn’t think they were over the whole “why didn’t you tell me” conversation, but Lance didn’t look as ticked off as he had earlier. Maybe he was getting over it? Keith wouldn’t hold his breath waiting for  _ that, _ but he also wouldn’t let this moment of respite pass without appreciating it.

Lance looked the boxes over, brows furrowing as he squinted at the dates on the top - and he looked adorable like that, Keith thought.

“Sweet, they’re still good until, like, March,” Lance grinned, tossing the boxes into the main part of the cart. “Oh, hey! Maybe we can make crinkle cookies out of it! I’ll grab another box, just in case it’s really good.”

He grabbed another box off the shelf, humming as he tossed in the cart and headed on. Keith followed again, some of the tension leaving him at the sight of Lance being somewhat cheerier than before. Maybe the whole fiasco hadn’t dampened his mood as badly as Keith had thought, and that was a relief. Sometimes Keith just didn’t know how to make it better, especially when he was part of the reason for why Lance was in a bad mood in the first place. 

They made it through the rest of the shopping trip without any further discussion of the matter, but Keith couldn’t help but feel a prickling at the back of his neck, that uneasiness that reminded him that it wasn’t exactly dealt with just yet. They might not have been talking about it, but they also weren’t really talking about  _ anything _ \- and that was just as bad, because that meant that Lance was too preoccupied with his thoughts to do his usual “I’m trying not to think about things so I’ll just talk about any topic I can think of to keep my mind off of the stuff I don’t want to think about”. That wasn’t generally a good sign, and Keith could feel the guilt weigh heavy in his chest. 

He should’ve just told him. Like, a year ago. Or when he told him about the site in the first place. He should’ve  _ told him _ .

“You’re still thinking about it?” Keith asked on the drive back, looking over at Lance while they stood at a red light. It was painfully obvious how agitated he was, as he’d started fidgeting with the Saturn necklace the moment he sat in the seat and hadn’t let up since. He’d barely said anything either, and Keith was starting to worry he’d actually somehow managed to  _ deeply _ hurt him in some way with this blunder.

“It's just,” Lance breathed out deeply, shifting lower in his seat until his knees hit the glove compartment. He spun the rings again, not looking at Keith as he repeated for the umpteenth time that day, “You couldn't just  _ tell _ me?”

Keith sighed out his nose, gripping the steering wheel a tad bit tighter as the irritation flared again. It wasn't that he didn't understand Lance it was… It was that he didn't  _ understand Lance _ . He wished that instead of just repeating the same thing over and over he'd finally just, explain himself or something. 

“Why is this bothering you so much?” Keith asked, trying more for questioning rather than pissy and annoyed. It didn't work, even he could tell that, his own voice sounding aggravated and grating even to himself. 

“It's bothering me-” Lance snapped back pausing when Keith hit the gas a little too hard and the car jerked forward sharply at the green light, pushing them both back in their seats a bit. “It's bothering me because...because it's been ALL this time and you...you didn't even…”

Keith could feel Lance's gaze boring into the side of his head, but he resolutely ignored it focusing on the road ahead.

“It’s like you were hiding it from me,” Lance's tone soured, his voice dropping a little. 

Keith couldn't deny that. He was after all, hiding it from Lance. 

“It wasn’t on purpose.” It was, actually, on purpose.

“So what, you just never told me  _ on accident _ ?” Lance was probably raising an eyebrow at that, Keith could practically see it despite still having his eyes focused firmly on the road before him, a small frown on his face that was probably bordering on pouty. 

“I didn’t…I,” Keith stuttered to a stop, slowing the car at the next red light. He took the chance to glance over at Lance. “I didn’t want you to get mad.”

He’d been right, Lance had one eyebrow raised; but now it lowered, his brown furrowing as he gave Keith a searching look. For the first moment since they’d gotten in the car he stopped fidgeting with the necklace.

“Why would I be mad?” He asked, sounding more confused than anything else. 

“B...because, it’s planes,” Keith said awkwardly, looking back at the street as the car in front of him edged forward. The light turned green and he hit the gas again, a little more gently this time, putting his blinker on as he reached the corner of their street. He didn’t know quite how to phrase his feelings, they seemed so stupid now that he was trying to put them into words. “And...and it’s like, it’s me? Writing stuff about, about the planes…”

His voice trailed off, he really wasn’t sure if he even got the point across, but he could hear Lance shift in his seat.

“You thought I was going to be mad about you writing about planes?” Lance asked, his voice growing higher with incredulity. Keith glanced at him quickly, eyes barely meeting Lance’s surprised ones before he looked ahead again, and answered with a nod. Lance only looked more confused, “Why?”  
“Because it’s about _planes_ ,” Keith said, frustration welling up inside of him until it felt like he was filled with the buzzing of hundreds of bees. _Because every time I slip up and start mentioning something about flying, you get this look on your face like you want to be somewhere else, because I’m worried you’d think I was flaunting or something, because I didn’t want you to hate me_ , he thought, but he couldn’t say. He pulled into a parking spot, teeth gritting as he put the car into park and cut the engine.

“I don’t understand, Keith,”” Lance huffed, exasperated. And fuck, Keith had been complaining about  _ Lance _ not being clear before, was he being any better about it now? 

“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to one-up you or something,” Keith said in a rush, staring down at the steering wheel. After a moment without a response he chanced a wary glance at Lance. There was an unreadable expression on his boyrfriend’s face, something odd in the way his eyes had widened, the way his hand had paused in brushing the fingers through his hair. Keith licked his lips, ventured cautiously, “You don’t… you don’t really like it when we talk about jets and stuff too long so I just… I mean, I wanna talk to you about it but I don’t want you to, to think I’m being a smart ass or something or… I don’t know…”

Keith looked away, back to his hands where he still gripped the steering wheel, “I don’t know… I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, I was really planning on it…”

“It’s okay,” Lance said quietly, and then his hand was on Keith’s wrist, thumb running lightly across the back of his hand.

“It’s not,” Keith said, turning to him again. “I should’ve told you… but you know I’d never keep anything important from you, right?”

“I know,” Lance said with a grin, but it looked strained, and he took a deep breath before he replied, “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“For blowing up at you like that,” Lance said with a shrug, looked away for a moment before turning his eyes to meet Keith’s with a sincere gaze, “And… and for making you think you can’t talk about this stuff with me. I never meant to do that…”

“It’s not your fault-” Keith started to reply, he didn’t want to make Lance feel like the blame was all on him, but Lance squeezed his wrist gently, cutting him off.

“I’m still sorry.” Lance said. Keith released the steering wheel and took Lance’s hand in his own, meeting his eyes as he gave it a slight squeeze.

“So am I,” He said with a small grin, and Lance grinned back. There was something a little sad in his eyes still, right on the edges, but it faded as he lifted himself up and pressed a kiss to Keith’s cheek. 

“Come on, let’s get this shit inside.”

  
  


\----

 

It was going to be a bad day.

Keith could feel it in the heaviness in his bones and the fog in his head. His alarm was going off, phone buzzing on the bedside cabinet but he couldn’t find the energy to move to turn it off. He stared at it, the screen lighting up in time with the buzzing, for… he wasn’t sure how long. Long enough to start waking Lance, at the very least, who grunted as he attempted to bury his face in Keith’s side. That finally got Keith to move, to lift his hand and slide the phone closer so he could swipe the alarm off.

The room went dark again as the screen shut off, and Keith was left looking up at the ceiling he couldn’t see. With a sigh that seemed to resonate down to his core, he tried to move from the bed. Slowly, he worked to get his arm from under Lance’s neck, trying not to wake him any more, but Lance only pushed himself closer. 

“Lance,” Keith said softly, “I gotta go.”

Lance only tucked himself in closer to his side, one arm flopping loosely over his waist. Keith lay back for another moment, his head feeling like it was running on below its lowest speed setting. He let himself breathe a few times, staring into nothingness as the fuzz in his head waxed and waned. He felt like he was cotton balls wrapped in cellophane, felt boneless and stiff, yet still he tried again, pulling his arm from under Lance and twisting onto his side on the bed.

“Keee….” Lance let out a whine that was  _ almost _ his name, the arm he had slung across Keith’s waist tightening around him. Keith groaned, sinking back into the bed as any lingering energy he might’ve had drained out of him. It was really fucking difficult to resist the urge to just… stay in bed with Lance. Cuddle for a while and just let time pass and not do anything. Especially when Lance pulled himself closer once more, his fingers tightening in Keith’s sleep shirt as he buried his face in Keith’s back.

“Where’re you goin’?” Lance muttered groggily into his back. 

“Work.” Keith replied with a sigh, his eyes already sliding closed.

“No.” Lance said, and though he still sounded half-asleep his tone was firm, like he expected no resistance.

“They’re kind of expecting me to be there,” Keith muttered, but he didn’t have the will to fight anymore. He just wanted to sleep. Forever, if possible, as long as Lance was right there next to him.

“You’re sick,” Lance said, making a half-assed effort to raise his hand to Keith’s face and only managing to flail it around and slap him on the cheek instead. “You got a temperature, burning up. Doctor says you stay home…”

“What doctor?”

“Me doctor.”

Keith snorted a little at the bad grammar, but the thought was tempting. Very tempting, and he couldn’t find any reason to fight against it.

 

“Okay.”

 

.

 

Keith didn’t get up until… well, he didn’t know when. He’d spent an indeterminate amount of time staring at the window, the covers pulled up to his chin and wrapped tight around him. One of the weighted blankets Lance had gotten him was at the side of the bed, tucked partially under it so that it was always on hand, but he hadn’t been able to summon the energy to get it. It had been easier to just roll around until the covers wound tight around him. 

He finally gathered the energy to disentangle himself and lift himself to sit on the bed. His body felt oddly weightless yet heavy, a flutter in his joints and spreading through his muscles as if they couldn’t decide what they wanted to do - fall apart or move or just fall back to the ground. He couldn’t think, really. HIs mind was a blur, not like it was blurring at that moment, but like it had blurred during the night, something coming through like an egg beater and leaving a mess in its wake that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. His grey matter felt splattered.

“Morning sleepy head,” Lance called from the doorway. Keith squinted over at him, surprised to find him already dressed. He grunted a response, unable to form words just yet - fuck he was tired - and Lance walked over to him, “Aw baby, rough day?”

“Kind of I guess,” Keith admitted, his voice hoarse. His head felt heavier than it had earlier, he felt so far away from everything.

“Is that why you stayed home?” Lance asked, coming to a stop in front of him and leaning over to kiss his forehead.

“I would’ve gone in,” Keith replied, speaking slowly, his brow furrowing as he glared up at Lance, “But  _ someone _ didn’t want to let me go.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Lance huffed, grinning as he began to run his fingers through Keith's hair. Keith closed his eyes, savoring the soothing feeling. He could fall asleep right then and there - except that Lance’s fingers caught in his hair suddenly, sharply.

“Ugh, you have so many tangles…” Lance muttered, and Keith opened his eyes reluctantly as Lance pulled his hands away. Lance was eyeing him with a grin as he asked, “Want me to brush them out for you?”

Keith nodded, waited on the bed while Lance left the room to get the brush. Everything seemed very faded that day, very far away and indistinct. He thought, maybe, he should be irritated by it - it was becoming readily apparent this was definitely one of his  _ bad days _ \- but he didn’t have the energy to get irritated. He barely had the energy to keep sitting there and waiting for Lance to return. 

“All right, let’s take care of those tangles!” Lance called cheerfully as he returned, the brush lofted high in his hand like it was a trophy or something. He climbed onto the bed, sitting himself behind Keith with his legs spread on either side of him. Keith sighed as the brush began running through his hair, Lance humming a soft tune as he slowly worked out the tangles that had formed while he slept.

“Hey, baby?” Lance asked after a while, and it took Keith a moment to realize that he had spoken at all.

“Yeah?”

“You doing okay?” Lance asked softly, but then added in hurriedly, “I mean, like, other than right now when you feel crappy but like, just in general…”

“I guess,” Keith replied noncommittally. He hadn’t really been thinking about it but he thought he was fine. Sure, he was having a weird detached day right then but it wasn’t like that all the time. He got shit done. He went to work. He had fun doing things and being around Lance and hanging out with Pidge. He was doing okay.

“Nothing’s bothering you?”

A flutter ran through Keith’s center at that question, thoughts rising unbidden, sluggishly, from the back of his head. He couldn’t focus on them though, his head not running with enough power, and they just milled round his brain, rolling around in the blurry mess of it, nearly formed but incoherent. 

“No?” He answered, frowning. There were no more tangles in his hair but Lance kept brushing with long, smooth strokes that felt so soothing and good. “Why?”

“You’ve just been kind of distant the last few weeks.” Lance said evenly.

Keith half-turned to him, “I have?”

He couldn’t remember that. He thought he was doing good.

“Only a bit, not in a bad way,” Lance said reassuringly, placing the brush aside on the bed. He leaned forward and looped his arms around Keith’s waist, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Just a bit. I thought you might be worrying about something, you sort of… hold stuff in sometimes.”

Keith grunted, but he couldn’t argue with that. It was true, after all, he wasn’t the most communicative about anything. There wasn’t really anything bothering him, though, nothing that would really weigh on his mind heavily enough to bother him - 

“Is it the trip?”

\- except the trip. The flutter that had woken inside of him earlier ran through him again, those cloudy thoughts at the edge of his mind beginning to coalesce into something tangible. He looked down, at the wood floor and the dusky green area rug and tried to keep his head from getting away from him.

“It’s not that,” Keith said quietly, but that prickle of anxiety was running down his spine. He wasn’t worried, anymore, not in a real way but there was that low-lying feeling that he wouldn’t be enough, that he’d mess up, that  _ something would go wrong and he might be the fault of it _ and - his chest fluttered - he pulled at Lance’s arms to wrap them around himself closer as if that would help him find stability. Lance understood his unspoken request, shifting closer to him and wrapping one arm tight around his waist and the other across his chest, pulling him close to himself until Keith could feel the warmth of Lance’s chest against his back.

“It is about the trip,” Lance murmured, softly, but he didn’t sound irritated.

“It’s not,” Keith retorted, but Lance only hummed in response, pressing a gentle kiss to Keith’s neck.

“We’ll talk about it, but later,” Lance said decidedly, “When you’re not feeling so crappy.”

Keith didn’t want to talk about it, because ignoring it all was so much easier, but he nodded anyway. 

“You going to work soon?” He asked, wondering dimly what time it was.

“Yeah,” Lance sighed, “I’d rather stay home with you.”

Keith would rather he stay as well, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well. Managers had changed at Lance’s job, and the new guy in charge was much more of a stickler for timeliness and routine shifts than the previous one.

“Take the car,” Keith said, patting Lance’s hand. “And don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

And he meant it, because he’d gotten used to the idea that they’d be flying out, he’d even gotten used to the idea of meeting Lance’s family. If he was still a bit nervous about it, it was normal - he didn’t think it had any bearing on just how shitty he felt or not. Sometimes his brain just hated him, and fall and winter usually made it worse after all. He’d only realized just how closely the pattern of his bad days followed the changing of the seasons over the last year, because Lance was vocal about it, asking him how he felt and doing things to help him feel better and just outright telling him about it. Lance helped like that a lot.

“All right,” Lance said with a sigh, not sounding convinced at all. He squeezed Keith tight one more time, kissing his cheek as he got up. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“All right.”

“And I’ll call you on my break.”

“Okay.”

“But don’t worry if you don’t feel like picking up I won’t get mad.”

“I’ll pick up.”

“I’m just saying that it’s okay if you do-”

“Go to work, Lance…” Keith called, rolling his eyes as he fell back onto the bed. He heard Lance moving through the apartment, the sound of him grabbing his keys from the counter and his footsteps fading down the hallway, before his voice echoed back,

“Love you!” 

“Love you too.”

 

.

 

Keith managed to drag himself out of bed sometime around noon. He took care of necessities and ended up in the kitchen, looking listlessly around the space for something to do. He was vaguely hungry, and he could see that Lance had left a covered plate out for him with a post it on it (a little heart with a smiley face inside of it), but though he was hungry he just… didn’t want to eat. Not really.

He set the kettle on the stove instead, hoping that maybe tea could help wake him up or something. He felt like… like he should be  _ doing _ something, but he didn’t know what. He should’ve gone to work, forced himself through the drudgery, at least that would have kept him in motion but this - this listless lying around, this lack of energy, this lack of drive, was making him just… even more listless, was bleeding any sort of energy and drive he had left out of him bit by bit. He needed to get moving, needed to  _ do  _ something, needed to-

Pay attention to the low pinging that suddenly broke its way through his thoughts and the odd metallic-burning scent that reached his nose. 

“Shit,” He spun, wobbled, around to stare at the stove, delaying half a second before slapping one hand to the burner control and the other to the tea kettle’s handle. The burner went out, and the handle  _ burned _ , the excess heat from the body of the kettle having heated it as well.

“SHIT.” He shoved the kettle to a cool burner, only realizing then that it was empty of water. Cursing under his breath he hurried to the sink and turned the cold tap, letting the cool water run over his hand. He didn’t think it would leave a mark, but it stung enough to knock him a bit out of his lethargy.

Not enough to become useful. Just enough to become irritated with his own state of being at the moment, too useless to even boil a kettle of water, too tired to eat. He glared down at his hand under the water, biting his lip to keep his voice from exploding in a burst of curses. 

He remembered a time when he could manage being alone, when he only had himself to rely on and no one else. He spent a year on the fringes of civilization, he reminded himself bitterly, and he  _ managed _ . He managed to eat and he managed to work and he managed to  _ survive _ . He managed, he told himself, but his memories knew better, knew all about the days spent watching the line of the sun move across the floor until night fell, knew all about the nights spent wandering the chilled desert plain until his legs gave out under the spread of the Milky Way above, knew all about putting off supply runs until only one water bottle, one can of food, remained and biting back the pain of actually  _ doing _ he’d force himself to enter the town. There was never anyone there, no other voice in the cabin, no presence following him when he wandered. He’d been completely, and utterly alone.

A bit like he was right then, with the apartment so big and so empty, with the silence pressing in on his head with white noise. He closed his eyes, his hand going numb under the icy spray of water, and he could almost imagine himself back there, centered in an expanse of dust and sand. 

“I can do this,” He whispered to himself, not quite sure what  _ this _ he meant but certain all the same. 

“I can  _ do this _ .” He said, and turned the tap off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so. Apologies for the long break. It's been really rough just trying to write lately, I've not been in the best headspace for it + life things have gotten involved.
> 
> Anyways, this is a short chapter. Sorry. I was going to wait and write more but I think this is cute and I think you'll like it. I'll do my best to get the next chapter out ASAP.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, i really appreciate you giving your time for this fic 
> 
>  
> 
> [itsdetachable on tumblr](http://itsdetachable.tumblr.com) * [itsdetachable on twitter](twitter.com/itsdetachable) * [justbloodcamthings on tumblr (official BloodCam AU blog)](http://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com)

 

Keith looked forward to the coming spring eagerly. Winter held its own magic, but in the end it was dreary and gray and it weighed down from the sky like a thousand ton weight. Spring felt like renewal and rebirth, it was fresh air and blue skies and the sun - after months of nothing but gray clouds and grayer surroundings,  _ the sun _ . Keith loved the sun, it recharged his worn batteries and put some pep back in his step, and even on his bad days sometimes, just knowing the sun was out helped make everything a little less heavy

He’d slacked a bit in terms of keeping himself moving throughout that winter. His runs went from every other day back to almost-weekly every Saturday morning. Almost. It wasn’t any fun running outside in the winter, trying to avoid slush puddles and icy patches. He’d muscle through it if he had to but his waning energy that winter had put a damper on what had before been an uncontrollable need to  _ move _ . If it wasn't for Lance dragging him to the gym along with him he might've completely shut down for everything other than work and eating - and it had been a long time since that had last happened and it honestly scared him a bit that he'd reached that point again. He hadn’t realized it at the time, just how stagnant he was becoming, but looking back on those mid-winter days from under the rays of the spring sun, he could see it, and it shook him.

But he had Lance - Lance, who wouldn't let him devolve into a potato even if Keith growled at him and argued with him or gave him the silent treatment. Lance, who, if he couldn't beg him into going, would goad him into it, joking that Keith was intimidated by him in the gym, or daring him to races on the treadmills. Keith still wasn't sure how a treadmill race worked - yeah, they counted miles or whatever - but the familiar competitiveness never failed to get him moving, even if reluctantly. Running was one of the last things he was fully confident about, after all, and he'd never pass up the opportunity to have Lance eat his dust - figuratively on the treadmills or literally when they ran together at the nearby park. He loved him but there was a time and a place for compromise, and it wasn’t during a race.

 

Spring was back now, and with the sun rising earlier each morning he found his energy returning, bit by bit. The previous night had been cold, and when Keith had left for his early morning run the air had still held a chill, but now the sun was out in full force. He’d made several laps around the local park, reveling in the burn of his muscles as he pushed himself further and further. He knew he shouldn’t overdo it, he didn’t want to deal with the cramps and the aches, but it was  _ so hard _ to control himself when he felt that energy surge through him again, making his heart pound in his chest and the grin spread over his face. It didn’t seem to take that much to push a little harder, run a little faster, keep going, going,  _ going _ , until the world became a blur around him and the wind wicked the sweat off his forehead. It had almost been too difficult to leave the park, and if he hadn’t had a good reason to go home he wouldn’t have.

Heading home, he took the alley as a shortcut. The air was cool but the sun’s rays kept him warm enough to keep from feeling chilled as he headed down the asphalt, walking in the shade of the garages. Their backyard was bordered by a short chainlink fence, broken only where it met the garage that sat at the back corner of the lot. He opened the gate and only just remembered to grab it and gently close it instead of letting the spring slam it closed. He wasn’t quite sure of the time but he wasn’t going to be an ass about that - when it slammed closed, the metal clang could be heard all the way in their living room, and he assumed it was similar for the rest of the house. 

He should’ve headed in, maybe, to start breakfast or something. Lance was probably still in bed, sleeping the excitement and emotions of the previous night’s show off like he should be doing, and Keith should’ve been heading in to get breakfast ready for him. Omelettes, maybe, because he could make those reliably now. And maybe he could get adventurous and make the hash browns they had sitting in the freezer. 

His feet led him aside instead, over to where his motorcycle sat covered in a tarp by the wall of the garage. He sat down on the grass there, leaned his back against the covered front wheel and breathed. The air tasted like  _ life _ , like nature in all its glory, tasted like dirt and green things and flowers, and he adored it. He loved spring. Loved the way the grass woke from the winter, seeming almost dried dead until it burst into green life again. Loved the way the early spring flowers pushed their way up through the ground, tumbling the soil off as they spread their leaves and petals to the sun. Loved the way the backyard seemed to come alive in a day -  _ in hours _ \- in one moment dormant and in another so very alive. There had been crocuses dotting the grass near the east-side fence, purple and white, but they’d wilted and died away a few weeks earlier, replaced by bright yellow daffodils and paler narcissus that grew in bunches all along the fence line. One of the tenants had planted several bushes up against the back of the garage, and they were growing fuller with each passing day. One Keith recognized as a gooseberry bush, but the other he couldn’t place - maybe a blackberry or a raspberry. 

Along the west-side fence line there was a thick bed of soil, separated from the yard by the walkway that led to the back gate. The several feet near the end, closest to the gate, were planted with several rose bushes, but a good half of the length of soil was empty, save for some weeds and odd flowers growing here and there. Keith had, on impulse one day, when the sun was bright for one of the first times that year and the crocuses had just started poking up, asked Lance if they were allowed to plant anything themselves. He still remembered Lance’s amused, yet puzzled look as he said they were, that part of that empty plot was there’s to do with as they wanted, if they wanted. It had made Keith’s day, and he felt the same surge of anticipation now when he looked at the empty soil. He wasn’t exactly a gardener, he’d never stayed anywhere long enough to really actually plant things and watch them grow, and the Nevadan desert wasn’t a friend to most green things (it was a miracle he’d kept the tiny sapling he’d found barely scraping by alive as long as he had). He had the chance now, though, to do just that - to fill that little patch of dirt with greenery, with color, to fill it with life. To watch it all grow. 

He was excited.

With a sigh, he let his head fall back as he looked up at the sky. The movement, unfortunately, brought less enjoyable thoughts to mind as the back of his head hit the fender. He winced, though it hadn’t hurt much, but now his thoughts were spinning away from pleasant daydreams of gardening. HIs motorcycle. Half a thought flitted through his mind,  _ he should get rid of it, finally _ , but that brought a pang to his chest and he pushed it away. He should fix it, was what he should do, but that thought was almost as painful. He kept promising himself he would do it, but there’d always be an excuse not to - not to take a better look at it, not to take it into the shop, not to let Hunk take a look at it at the very least, as Lance had insisted  _ so many times _ before giving up. He liked to say he didn’t have the money for the repairs or the parts, or that he didn’t have the time, but in the end it just came back to… nothing.

He should do something with it. It was broken and useless and taking up space and -

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he lowered the hands he hadn’t realized he’d raised to his face to pull it out. 

 

Lord of the Meows (9.30am): hey 

Lord of the Meows (9.30am): u coming back soon

Keeftus (9.31am): why are you awake

Lord of the Meows (9.32am): too tired to sleep nemore

Lord of the Meows (9.32am): wanna make pancakes

Lord of the Meows (9.32am): r u far??

 

Keith glanced at the kitchen window from where he sat. 

 

Keeftus (9.33am): no i’ll be in in a few

Lord of the Meows (9.33am): good

 

Pancakes sounded amazing. They definitely sounded better than sitting around thinking about his motorcycle. Tucking his phone away again, Keith pushed himself to his feet. His gaze fell to the empty plot again as he walked down the path, and though his mood had been dampened it perked up again at the thought of what he could plant. Flowers, lots of flowers. He wanted just… a whole  _ bursting _ of colors. Everywhere.

He’d focused so strongly on that thought the he almost tripped as something short and furry weaved its way suddenly between his legs, meowing in a familiar warble as it did.

“Feebs?” Keith took a step back, then crouched down to the cats level, grin spreading across his face. The tortie cat looked up at him with a distinct gleam in her amber eyes, meowing again as she stepped closer to butt foreheads with him as he leaned down. “Where have you been, huh?”

Feebs didn’t answer, but Keith didn’t give her much of a chance to do so. Scooping her up into his arms, he held her close and headed for the back door. She seemed utterly unperturbed, tail swinging a few times to tap him on his stomach as she settled in his arms. Keith wanted to squeeze her tight in a hug, he was so happy to see her; they’d gotten her used to staying inside over the winter, but a couple of weeks earlier she’d gone out into the yard with them and disappeared, and they hadn’t seen her since. Lance had been utterly distraught, even though Keith tried to remind him that she’d been a stray for who knows how long and could probably survive a few days outside on her own. That had led to Lance calling him heartless and refusing to talk to him for a whole two days, but despite Keith’s attempts to be brutally optimistic he worried about her too. Fuck, he missed her, like,  _ a lot _ . She’d always be there when he’d get home, and she’d cuddle up with him when he watched tv or was on his laptop. Sometimes she’d sit just outside a doorway and lean over so she could peek at him while he did something in the other room. Sometimes, she was just  _ there _ , and Keith hadn’t realized just how much he appreciated having her around until she was gone. (And that, unfortunately, seemed to be the story of his life).

But now she was back, warm and cuddly and in his arms, and he unlocked the back door as quickly as he could, pushing it open and calling out,

“Lance, I’m back! And I brought you a present!”

Lance wasn’t in the kitchen, but he appeared soon enough, walking down the hall from the living room with a puzzled look on his face. 

“Hey babe, what’s up?” He yawned, obviously not as awake as he had said he was, but then his eyes widened, and with a happy gasp he launched himself across the kitchen.

“FEEBS!” He cried out, grabbing the cat out of Keith’s arms and lifting her over his head. He winced slightly at the quick motion, the action no doubt pulling at his cuts, but didn’t lower Feebs as he grinned up at her. She meowed her warbly meow, tail twitching but otherwise unaffected by the overly dramatic display. “Oh my god you naughty kitty  _ where have you beeeeen _ ?”

He pulled her close then, holding her tight against his chest as he kissed  her head and nuzzled his face into her fur, “We were worried  _ sick _ about you!”

Keith rolled his eyes as he walked over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, though he grinned at the display. It was adorable, the way Lance was so happy to see her, the way Feebs was just taking it all in stride. Keith didn’t know how they got blessed with such a relaxed and amiable rag doll of a cat but they did.

“Maybe if we make you a catio you won’t be so eager to get out,” Lance was saying as Keith opened the fridge door, his voice raising after a moment, “Keith! We need to build a catio. Do you think the landlord would let us put one in the backyard? Like, maybe attached to the window so Feebs can go out whenever she wants?”

“A what?” Keith asked, opening the bottle of water, the word sounding foreign to him even though he  _ knew _ he knew it. He thought he knew what it was.

“A catio. You know,” Lance said, turning to him, eyebrow raised as he shot him an expectant look, “A cat patio?”

Keith thought a moment as he drank from the bottle, his mind flitting over several images until it settled on one, and after he’d swallowed and wiped his lips with his hand he answered, “One of those outdoor cat… boxes?”

Lance stared at him with an incredulous look that was quickly turning horribly amused, and before Keith knew it he was laughing, leaning back against the counter and rocking Feebs in his arms as he did so.

“Yes, yes,” Lance forced between chuckles, “An outdoor cat box.”

Feebs half-meowed in protest when Lance dropped his face against her and laughed into her fur, struggling a little against the movement. 

“I know what you’re talking about,” Keith huffed, setting the water bottle on the counter and shooting a glare Lance’s way. It didn’t really work, considering Lance was still smothering his laughter in Feebs’s side, but it was better than nothing.

“I know,” Lance wheezed finally, straightening up. Feebs took the opportunity as his arms loosened around her to hop out of his grasp and onto the counter. They were supposed to have a no-cats-on-the-counter rule but it was  _ Feebs _ and they didn’t have the ability to say no to her on things like that, so she just plopped herself right down and started putting her fur back in order. 

“It’s just… outdoor cat box…” Lance grinned over at Keith, eyes still wrinkling with mirth.

“That’s what it is!” Keith said, crossing his arms and shooting Lance a dirty look as if daring him to prove him wrong. Okay, so he was being a little  _ literal _ with the description, whatever.

“A big box for a cat that goes outside, yes, I mean technically you’re not wrong,” Lance snickered, and then seeing that Keith was still glaring at him he sighed and held out his arms. Keith tried to hold out, just a little bit, but despite the teasing he was a weak man in the face of cuddles from his boyfriend, and he ended up walking over to give Lance a hug anyway. He  _ did _ keep his arms crossed and a frown on his face all five steps of the way over, though, just to show Lance he was not amused by the teasing, not one bit.

“You don’t want to hug me right now, I stink,” Keith said, even as Lance put his arms around his waist and tugged him closer. He knew he had sweated a ton out there, he’d spent so long overexerting himself out in the sun, and even if Lance didn’t seem to mind him being sweaty it still made Keith feel like he was dirty. “I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Mmm,” Lance nestled his face into Keith’s neck, arms wrapped tight around him. “I like how you smell after you go running outside, like… you smell like, like  _ air _ .”

“Like...air.” Keith said evenly, and Lance “mm-hmed” in response. It was almost criminal how well he fit in the circle of Keith’s arms, like he was made to be there. Keith pressed his cheek to Lance’s and rubbed a hand along his back. “You, the guy who just made fun of me for saying “outdoor cat box”-”

“I didn’t  _ make fun of you _ I just  _ teased _ you a bit-” Lance protested, his voice muffled against Keith’s skin.

“-”smell like air”.” Keith repeated back at him. Lance pulled back to fix him with a frown, brows furrowed, and while Keith wanted to grin at how adorable he looked he managed to keep a straight face as he asked evenly, “What does ‘air’ smell like, exactly?”

“It’s not - it’s not the air,” Lance let out a frustrated noise, giving Keith a shove, not hard enough to actually move him but  _ just enough _ . “It’s like, you and the wind and the… whatever. I don’t know, okay. You just smell good after a run outside.”

Keith knew what Lance was talking about, at least he was pretty sure he did. That sort of almost-ozone-like scent that tagged along after a good run outside, especially when the wind was blowing and the weather was nice. Lance carried it home with him too, when they went for a run at the park together, and Keith thought it suited him. He’d never be bold enough to say it, though, not like Lance, and he’d sure as hell never be bold enough to just pull him close and take a huge whiff of his scent like a weirdo. 

“You wanted to make pancakes, right?” Keith asked, eager to change the subject and even more eager to change out of his sweat-damp clothes. Lance’s eyes brightened, and he nodded eagerly. “I’m going to take a shower and then I can give you a hand.”

“Ugh, fine,” Lance said, pulling Keith in for one more hug and a peck on the cheek before letting him pull away. He slapped him on the butt as Keith turned to go, grinning., “Hurry up then, i’m  _ starving _ .”

Keith rolled his eyes before sticking his tongue out at him, petting Feebs on the head as he passed on his way to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you'd like! I love to hear from you all!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah what, an update? 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> [itsdetachable on tumblr](http://itsdetachable.tumblr.com) * [itsdetachable on twitter](twitter.com/itsdetachable) * [justbloodcamthings on tumblr (official BloodCam AU blog)](http://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com)

 

The coffee in the lunchroom was absolute shit but Keith was pouring himself a cup anyway, eyeing the dark liquid warily as he pulled his cup from under the spout. It was guaranteed to give him a stomachache, but he needed the caffeine that morning and his options were severely limited that day. One look outside had confirmed for him that yes, the storm the weatherman had been promising for the past week had finally arrived in tree-shaking, monsoon proportions, and he was in no hurry to get soaked to the bone two steps out the door. He had an umbrella, but he’d left the car for Lance to use that day since there was a shit ton of shopping that needed to be done and Lance had offered to take care of it. Keith hadn’t expected the storm of the season to actually hit at the time, and he was just slightly regretting leaving the car at home.

Glowering at what he suspected was toxic sludge rather than actual coffee, he proceeded to pour double his usual amount of sugar into it, and followed that with enough cream to turn the mixture an off white. He stirred it languidly, steeling himself for that first sip that would no doubt turn his stomach.

“Good Morning, Keith,” A cheerful voice reached him, and he looked up to find his supervisor, Raila, stepping up to the coffee pots. She was a short and stout women, with tan skin and big, brown eyes, her curly auburn hair pulled back into a messy knot. Keith liked her; she was friendly without being overbearing, and all business when the matter at hand needed her to be. It was a bit of a relief to have someone in a superior position to his with such clearly stated boundaries. When they chatted they chatted but when it came down to work she made it clear what she expected.

“Morning,” Keith responded, trying not to sound like death warmed over. For some reason, that morning was just kicking his ass and he couldn’t seem to wake up properly, no matter how hard he tried. He watched as Raila eyed the canisters uncertainly, tapping her mug against one hand. There were several to choose from, all lined up at the edge of the counter: “Dark”, “Light”, and the mysterious “Decaf” that always seemed to stay untouched.

“What’s your poison?” She asked Keith finally, still frowning at the canisters.

“Dark.” Keith replied, and Raila shot him a surprised, and somewhat horrified, look.

“You got a death wish?” She chuckled, and he managed a grin in response.

“I’ve got a bad need to focus on what I’m doing,” Keith sighed, eyeing the liquid in his mug uncertainly. 

“I feel that,” Raila said with a shake of her head, but she ended up choosing the light roast instead, apparently far less willing to subject her body to the horrors of the dark roast.

“So, your vacation time is coming up soon isn’t it?” She asked conversationally as she moved to the sugar, Keith still standing there trying to force himself to take a sip of his coffee. 

The question was unexpected, and suddenly the world seemed to shudder, a weight dropping leaden through the floor of Keith’s stomach at the words. The trip, California, Jo’s Graduation,  _ Lance’s family _ \- over the past months he’d managed to put it neatly away into a box labeled “later” in the back of his mind. It was coming,  _ he knew it was coming _ , but it had been so long in the coming that he’d been able to fall back into an uneasy and distracted anticipation, where his mind no longer hovered over the possibility of the trip and potential failure on the daily.

But it was all back, suddenly and with a force he hadn’t expected, staggering him mentally and maybe physically as well. He wasn’t quite sure if he shifted his stance from the weight of it or not but he knew his voice was hoarse as he replied, desperately trying for casual,

“Yeah.”

“Only a few more weeks,” Raila continued, smiling easily, oblivious to the roiling cloud of doubt that she’d awakened deep within Keith’s mind with such a simple question. “Doing anything fun?”

Keith’s mind faltered a moment, he struggled to piece together the words to respond, “M...my boyfriend’s sister - she’s graduating. College. Out in California.”

“Oh,” Raila breathed in awe, grinning widely as she took a few steps towards the exit. Keith picked up on her lead, hesitantly following along. “That’s wonderful! I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

“Yeah…” Keith agreed, but trepidation was shaking its way through his mind again. He barely noticed when Raila left to her own station, falling into his chair and putting on the headphones on autopilot. 

The trip, meeting Lance’s family - he still couldn’t quite grasp why it caused him so much anxiety. Sure, he would be going to a new place but that had never bothered him before. He’d be around new people - possibly loud and boisterous people - but he’d handled that before. He’d been through worse, or so he tried to tell himself. There was nothing that he should worry about - but he did. Because this was Lance’s family, and he loved Lance and he really, really wanted to make a good impression on them. 

He wasn't stupid. He knew damned well he wasn't exactly the most likeable person around, especially not right off the bat.. He was rough, he came off as distant more often than not, he had a hard time reading emotions and sometimes he could take things too literally. He got snappy and defensive when he was uncomfortable, no matter who he was around, and then when he realized he was getting like that he closed himself off. He liked to think that after all the time he and Lance had spent together that it was a bit better between them at least - he thought he wasn’t as much of a shit as he used to be, that he read Lance better than he used to and let Lance read  _ him _ more than he used to - but he couldn't help but worry about what was to come when he was with the rest of Lance's family. Lance could assure him until he was blue in the face that they'd love him but it didn't help. Keith knew he wasn’t likeable, he knew he didn’t make good first impressions, and somehow, deep down inside, he knew he was going to fuck this one up.

Slowly, he breathed in, focusing back onto his computer screen and the multicolored panels of the program he worked in. Eyes roving across the familiar spread of words and data fields, he breathed out and pushed those thoughts away for a little longer.

 

-

 

Lord of the Meows (8.15am): did u give me a kiss this morning before u left

Lord of the Meows (8.15am): ??

Keefer (8.16am): yeh

Keefer (8.17am): you said something about making oranges and passed out right after

Lord of the Meows (8.19am): thats stupid y would i say that

Lord of the Meows (8.19am): u don’t MAKE oranges

Keefer (8.20am): you were kind of still asleep

Keefer (8.20am): you don’t remember?

Lord of the Meows (8.21am): nope

Lord of the Meows (8.21am): don’t remember must not have happened

Keefer (8.22am): really

Lord of the Meows (8.22am): u have to come home n give me a kiss now to make up for it

Keefer (8.23am): i’m rushing home right now

Lord of the Meows (8.23am): i’m waiting

Lord of the Meows (8.24am): ( ˘ ³˘)♥

 

-

 

Keith wasn't exactly a stellar cook - even after all this time of Lance trying his damn hardest to teach him more than the basics - but he had been moderately proud of himself after that day’s dinner. After promising he'd make it, he'd scoured several sites, looking for a recipe that didn't sound like it would be either too difficult or too confusing. He'd ended up browsing Lance's pinterest finally, and settling on a simple yet tasty looking recipe involving chicken breast and some sauce and steamed and seasoned vegetables and a rice pilaf that didn't sound too difficult to make. Trying to escape the rising threat of anxiety at the reminder of the coming trip, he threw himself into the task, focusing so hard he barely noticed when Lance had come home. If his boyfriend hadn’t practically wrapped himself around him and blew into his ear he might actually not have noticed.

Lance had laughed, dodging the half-assed slap Keith aimed his way in retaliation, then swooped right back in to kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re so busy, muffin,” He’d said, grinning cheekily as he eyed all the ingredients Keith had gathered on the countertop as Keith rolled his eyes at the pet name. Lance was using it on purpose, just to rile him up, he  _ knew it _ . “Do you need any help?”

Keith hadn’t needed help, he’d needed about a dozen more hours of mind-numbing singular focus to keep from drowning in doubts, but all he said to Lance was, “I got this.”

Afterwards, he founds himself regretting it. Dinner was pretty good, considering he was the one who made it, but he felt mentally drained after all that work. Cooking shouldn’t take so much out of a person, he thought. Especially if the outcome wasn’t exactly stellar. Personally, while he found most of the dinner to be pretty good, he thought he'd bombed on the chicken. It seemed overcooked to him and nowhere near as moist and flavorful as the pinterest post had promised, but Lance had actually held back on any criticisms, praising his cooking with a gusto that almost became comical. Keith appreciated it though, and he still felt the warm fuzzies long after dinner was finished, grinning as he took the dishes Lance was rinsing in the sink and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Look at you, being all smiley and adorable," Lance said with a smile as he passed him the forks. Keith forced himself to stop grinning in response, shooting Lance a disgruntled look. "Aw, babe, you deserve it, that was a mighty good dinner."

Lance grinned as he leaned over to press a kiss to Keith's cheek, "This is like, several steps above casseroles and frozen pizzas, you know, you've like... leveled up your cooking skill."

"Fuck off," Keith replied with a snort, but he was grinning again. It was nice, getting compliments from Lance. Not that he didn't get them, but it was still... sometimes he didn’t think he deserved them, and sometimes he didn’t think Lance meant them - though that had more to do with his own perceptions than any faults on Lance’s side - but right then and there he was certain Lance meant them, and he was happy to accept them. And considering how proud Lance was of his cooking, and how much he liked to make every little thing into a competition, the fact that he wasn’t doing that at the moment was just… something else. It was nice. Keith liked their stupid competitions but it was just so good to be complimented without the hint of one.

Just as Lance turned back to the sink and was shoving his hands into the sudsy water with a plate, his phone started ringing - an upbeat tune that Keith didn't know the name of but that he recognized from how often he'd heard it playing from Lance's phone.

"Shit, that's Jo, can you grab it for me?" Lance asked, hands still in the water as he angled his hip towards Keith. Keith pulled the phone from Lance's front pocket, the front screen lit up with one of Jo’s selfies from the past Halloween, and tapped the green button.

"Hi Jo," He greeted as Lance put the last spoons into the dishwasher. "How's it going?"

"Oh, hi Keith," Jo greeted cheerfully enough, but there was an odd edge to her tone, something somewhat strained. "How's it going?"

"Good," Keith said, though his brows furrowed at the hitch in her tone. "Just finished the dishes, I'll get you Lance he's just wiping his hands."

"That'd be great, thanks Keith." Jo's tone was sincere, but that  _ something off _ was still there, putting Keith just the slightly bit on edge. He handed the phone over once Lance tossed the dishrag aside, and Lance greeted Jo cheerfully, grinning.

"Hey sis, what's up?" He asked. Keith eyed him as he listened to the answer, not missing the way his brow wrinkled and his grin fell slightly. Lance met his gaze, motioning to the living room even as he began walking away.

Keith let him go, wondering what it could be that would drop his mood so quickly. The only thing he could think of was that something was wrong with Jo's credits, or something, and that her graduation was in jeapordy. That didn't make much sense, though - she'd been doing additional courses over the past few summers according to Lance, and she was still taking several courses that spring, for the hell of it. She was drowning in credits. 

But if it wasn’t that, then what?

With a disgruntled sigh, Keith finished loading the last couple of plates in the dishwasher, then tossed the detergent pod into its basket and set the machine on. It wasn't the newest model, the hum of it pulling water from the pipes was just loud enough to block out most of Lance's words. Hanging the dishrag on the handle of the oven to dry, Keith headed slowly over to the hallway, trying to catch some of what Lance might've been talking about. It wasn't spying, exactly. He didn't think it was. Was it? He was sure Lance was going to tell him anyway. Pausing just inside the hallway, he peered towards the living room and strained his ears.

A loud, wavery meow broke his concentration, and his eyes dropped to where Feebs was making her way down the hallway towards him, tail raised and eyes bright with interest. She rubbed against his legs, meowing until he leaned over and petted her. Lance's voice was easier to hear, now that Keith was in the hallway, but he was speaking in a low tone that with the rattle and hum of the dishwasher was still hard to understand. All Keith could tell was that Lance was talking fast and that he was not happy. Once the first rattles of the dishwasher faded into the somewhat quieter spray of water inside of the machine, he could make out words as well - though he was no closer to understanding than when he couldn't, considering Lance burst into Spanish for long moments, passionate sentences interspersed here and there with English words.

For a bit Keith debated if he should go into the living room or not; he didn't have much left to do in the kitchen, and knowing Lance was pissed, or at the very least worked up about something, was leaving him unsettled and nervous. But he didn't know if his presence right there would help or not; what if Lance didn't want an audience to whatever was going on? Maybe he should give him some space, wait for Lance to come to him. 

Huffing in frustration and indecision, he stood back up and headed back to the kitchen. Feebs followed him, meowing once in what sounded like puzzlement before racing ahead of him and jumping onto a chair. Keith sighed, rolling his eyes as he petted her again. 

“It’s time for your dinner, isn’t it?” Keith asked, realizing they hadn’t put it out before they ate. Feebs had joined them at the table, sitting on one of the chairs so her head peeked above the tabletop comically, but though she eyed their plates with interest she hadn’t begged for any scraps like she usually did. Not that they usually gave her any - sometimes a piece of meat from their plates would find its way to her, but they both tried to curb the impulse so it didn’t turn into a habit.

Leaving Feebs sitting on the chair, Keith walked over to the pantry and pulled the door open. Feebs meowed excitedly when she saw him do it, hopping off the chair and racing across the floor as he eyed the cans of wet food they had available. They tried to mix up her diet, usually giving her dry food in the morning and wet in the evening. It had been hell trying to get her used to different foods in the beginning, but it turned out that tuna juice could convince Feebs to try  _ anything _ \- and once she tried it, she usually liked it.

“What do you want today?” Keith asked, “Salmon Surprise or Turkey Dinner?”

Feebs responded with a drawn out meow that ended with an almost-purr, and Keith raised an eyebrow at her.

“Turkey Dinner? Really?” He asked, as if he could understand her, and pulled the can out and closing the closet door. Her food bowl, a plastic fuschia colored thing that almost hurt to look at, was on the countertop next to the pantry door, along with a little plastic spoon that had a cat face on it. Popping open the can, he used the spoon to scoop out half of it, Feebs weaving between his legs but politely waiting for him to place the bowl on the ground next to her water bowl. As soon as he did she attacked it with an almost vicious appetite, barely giving him a glance as he moved to carry the spoon to the sink and the can to the fridge. 

“You should’ve bothered us if you were that hungry,” Keith sighed, frowning at her. Not like she understood him. He popped a food-saver can cover onto the can and put it in the fridge, then washed the cat spoon and set it on the dish rack to dry. Feebs taken care of, he wandered back towards the hallway, ears perked to see if he could catch any bit of the conversation Lance was having.

Except… there was no conversation. Just silence beyond the hallway, and that only spiked the worry that had been rolling fitfully within him. Was the conversation over? If it was, why hadn’t Lance come back? Keith walked down the hallway to the living room, peering into it as he approached the doorway to find Lance sitting on the couch, hunched over slightly with his elbows on his knees. He didn’t seem to notice Keith entering the room, his eyes focused - or rather unfocused - at the ground.

“Lance?” Keith asked hesitantly, voice low, not wanting to startle him. Startle him he did, however, and Lance glanced up with a jerk, surprised by his voice. After a second he grinned, or tried to, and greeted him in a voice shaking with emotion.

“H-hey babe.”

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked, walking over to sit next to him on the couch. He didn’t like the energy around Lance, the way how even though he sat up he still looked like he was curling in on himself. Something wasn’t right, and Keith’s spine was tingling with the beginning of what he knew would lead to something flight-or-fighty. He bit back the fluttering along the edges of his body, the rising anxiety at the back of his mind, and focused wholly on Lance.

“Nothing, I mean,” Lance began, but his voice was strained. Though he tried to meet Keith’s eyes, he couldn’t quite - his own gaze slipping away each time he tried. His fingers clutched at his jeans, and Keith could see the way his lower lip was beginning to shake.

“Lance…” He said slowly, lowly, trying to sound soft. He knew he didn’t always pull it off but he had to right then because something was wrong and Lance didn’t deserve the pain of keeping it to himself. “Lance… hun, tell me. What’s wrong?”

Lance’s eyes met his then, his whole face falling, whatever weak facade he’d tried to put up cracking in front of him. 

“Jo was...Jo, she talked with our parents today.” Lance managed, his words choked, his eyes wide and so horribly sad. He paused, breathed, looked away as if he couldn’t trust himself to keep looking at Keith and keep talking at the same time. Keith reached out, put a hand on Lance’s back in a soothing gesture. Lance breathed in, shakily enough that Keith felt it beneath his touch. Lance’s fingers found the saturn pendant, began to spin it fitfully as he continued in a hushed voice,

“They can’t… there was some problem, with issuing the visa and they, t-they can’t, they can’t come. Keith, they can’t  _ come _ .”

“What?” Keith asked in shock, and Lance turned to him, eyes crinkling with what he knew were going to be tears in just a few moments.

“They got a c-call from the office, they said they needed more information, or s-something and that they sent the documents to them but they never got them - the office said they were sent like a  _ month ago _ -” Lance barely stopped for a breath, voice thick and heavy with emotion - “They’re not going to be at Jo’s graduation! They’re not going to  _ be there _ and I-”

He choked off, looked away, back down at the ground again. His fingers were tripping up on spinning the rings on the pendant, they kept slipping or trying to turn them too fast, they couldn’t keep up with what Keith knew had to be a tangling tumble of thoughts inside Lance’s head. Keith tried to breathe, tried to keep himself stable, at the very least, as he felt Lance falling apart beneath his touch.

“Will they get the visa at all?” He asked, still unable to believe what he was hearing. Lance’s parents wouldn’t be able to come? Their daughter, the first child to graduate college in America, wouldn’t be able to see them on her graduation?  _ Everyone _ was waiting for them, their entire family and… He knew how much Lance was looking forward to seeing his parents after all those years, and he knew how happy Jo was with the thought that they’d be there - it’d been  _ so long _ since any of them had seen each other in real life, face to face… And beyond it all, he knew what it was like, missing your parents. Hoping to see their faces in front of you again, wishing they were there with you, wishing you could touch them, feel them, hear their voices… Maybe, maybe he felt it in a different way, but still, he could imagine the pain of being so close to seeing them, and having it pulled away at the last moment.

“T-they might?” Lance shook his head, and Keith could see the first tears fall as he did, dripping slowly down his face. “B-b-but it won’t be in time, the graduation’s like three weeks away a-a-and they’re going to  _ miss it _ and- and-”

Lance was rambling but it was a rushed, barely contained sort of rambling, and - shit - Keith realized it was getting bad, Lance was getting bad. He was shaking under the hand Keith was rubbing in circles across his back, his fingers clutching at his own shirt as he’d given up on the saturn pendant, his coordination gone, his breathing getting heavier the more words spouted from his mouth.

“They already had their tickets, Keith, e-everything - everything’s been set up - it’s such a big deal a-and they’re not going to  _ be _ there and-” 

“Hey, hey, Lance,” Keith tried to get through to him but Lance didn’t seem to hear him, shaking his head, his voice growing strained as he continued to ramble. Keith wasn’t even paying attention to the words anymore, he couldn’t, because he needed to focus on calming Lance down and he couldn’t do both at the same time. The anxiety was spiking through him, his entire body felt like it had a current running through it, humming through his tendons and ligaments until he felt he was shaking almost as badly as Lance. 

Flight or fight but he couldn’t do  _ either _ \- Lance  _ needed him _ , and he needed to figure this out. Fuck, he was bad with figuring things out, he was better at just  _ doing _ , running on instinct, but right then not even instinct could tell him what to do. He didn’t know how to fix this, he didn’t know how to keep Lance from tumbling down deeper into what was rapidly devolving into a panic attack - fuck, he’d never seen Lance this bad, he’d never seen him cry so hard, never heard him running through words like they were lifelines, running his voice ragged, the breath wheezing in and out of him so harshly it had to hurt. 

There had to be something that could help. Keith racked his brain as he gingerly wrapped his arms around Lance, trying to think of something, anything that could help. When he had his moments, when he had his bad dips or when he felt like everything was just  _ too much _ around him, too loud and too bright and too  _ existing _ , he liked to curl up under his weighted blankets, finding the weight of them comforting. Maybe… maybe it could help Lance? He didn’t know, but hell he’d try anything right then. Anything to break him out of the attack.

“I’ll be right back,” He said thickly, loathe to leave Lance for even a second, as he kissed Lance’s temple and dashed off the couch. He had to jump over Feebs as she was wandering down the hallway towards the living room, nearly slid into the doorframe when he reached the bedroom, and actually did slip as he entered the bedroom. He landed on the floor on his hands and knees, the breath knocking out of him, but it didn’t matter because it actually put him closer to the blanket that lay on the floor by the foot of the bed. He scrambled to grab it, then scrambled again to get back on his feet so he could run out the bedroom and to the living room again.

Lance had his face in his hands by the time he got back, curled down into himself and still shaking, breath wheezing, and Keith wasted no time throwing the blanket over his shoulders and around him.

“W..what?” Lance breathed, looking up as the weight settled across his back. He looked up at Keith, face tearstained and eyes red, looking horribly lost and confused. Keith met his eyes, breathing hard from the running he’d done, and said simply, 

“It helps me.”

There was another moment where they just looked at each other, Keith in wide-eyed hope and Lance in wide-eyed shock, and then… well, it kind of looked like Lance smiled, almost, but his face screwed up like he was going to cry again at the same time and Keith couldn’t tell what his expression really was. A sob broke past his lips, and he held up his hands to Keith, arms shaking.

“I got you,” Keith breathed, settling back down on the couch next to Lance and pulling him into his arms. He didn’t really know if the blanket helped, didn’t know what else to do to make things better other than pull Lance close, tight  _ tight _ against him until Lance’s head was tucked against his chest and he could wrap his arms around him.

“I’m s-sorry, ‘m sorry,” Lance gasped between sobs, curling in on himself as Keith rocked him gently in his arms.

“Don’t apologize,” Keith said gruffly, pressing his face into Lance’s hair. Lance sounded so broken and he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“What am I five?” Lance sobbed, “F-f-freaking out like this o-over nothing…”

“This isn’t nothing,” Keith pressed a kiss to his head, tried to  _ will _ all the love and affection he could telepathically to him.. “Not to you.”

“I just…” Lance sniffed, burrowing in closer to Keith, “I just miss them  _ so much _ …”

Keith said nothing, not knowing the words that could make it all better. He just held him close, wrapped tight in his arms, until long after his sobs had quieted and his tears had dried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Let me know what you think if you'd like. 
> 
> I'm hoping to have the next chapter soon. It'll have Pidge and Hunk and Shay in it so there's that to look forward to!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, It's been a while! I've got 9k for you though, so I hope you can forgive me.
> 
> And man, what about season 3, huh? Wow.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy! If you have any questions or comments shoot them my way!
> 
>  
> 
> [itsdetachable on tumblr](http://itsdetachable.tumblr.com)  
>  [BloodCam on Tumblr](http://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com)  
>  [itsdetachable on twitter](http://www.twitter.com/itsdetachable)

Some days were the ones where Keith couldn’t get his head started no matter what, where he could just barely drag himself out of bed when the alarm went off. Some days were the ones where his head was so on with nothing that he woke early, white noise buzzing static through his consciousness, and kept waking early, and eventually gave up on sleeping because he was just going to keep starting awake all night anyways so what was the point. 

Some days, though, were the ones where both somehow managed to mash together, and he ended up awake and distant, detached yet with his senses all abuzz for most of the night, waiting for his alarm to go off as his half-lidded eyes stared up into the darkness of the room. 

This was one of those days.

With a sigh, he decided to pre-empt the alarm and drag himself out of bed early. He wasn’t going to get any more sleep at his rate, and his position wasn’t the most comfortable one, even if Lance had curled up into his side, head tucked under Keith’s arm and forehead pressed tight against his side, one arm curled up and fisted under his chin while the other lay stretched out over Keith’s stomach. It was adorable, and cozy, but Keith was half-curled while still laying on his back to accommodate it, and his spine was beginning to twinge with the strain of it. 

As quietly and smoothly as he could, he lifted Lance’s arm and slid out from under it. Lance let out a small sound, something halfway between a groan and a huff, but stayed asleep as Keith tucked his arm back under the covers and pulled them up under his chin. There was a troubled wrinkle in his forehead, as if Keith’s sudden absence bothered him even in his sleep. Keith paused a second, then reached out to stroke his fingers across Lance’s exposed temple until the wrinkle faded away. Grinning tiredly to himself, he grabbed his phone and headed out of the room, quietly pulling the door closed behind him before he hit the lights in the kitchen. The sudden shock of brightness blinded him for a moment, and he winced, rubbing fingers over his eyes until he could finally squint and see where he was going. 

His first stop was at the calendar hanging on the fridge, that he dutifully checked each morning (if he was awake enough to remember) to remind himself what day it was. It was a bit chaotic looking, full of color and writing that at first glance made it look like a jumbled mess. It had taken time to get used to, as Keith never wrote on his calendars unless something extremely important was coming up, but he’d adapted to the notes that Lance carefully wrote into every square where necessary. Lance’s regular handwriting was airy, energetic like he was, but for the calendar he wrote in a clear block print, easy to read even when the letters were tiny (and some of them were  _ really _ tiny, depending how much he needed to fit in a day). Black pen for things that needed to be done and red pen for things that NEEDED TO BE DONE, and highlighters of different colors when necessary - it was all a lot for Keith after an entire life of boring white boxes but - BUT -  it helped Lance keep a hold on his fly-away thoughts and keep his focus on the important things, so he didn’t mind. Not much. Not once he figured out how to read everything. It helped when Lance started crossing out the day with a bold, blue marker so Keith didn’t have to do too many mental gymnastics in the morning.

Keith’s eyes found the current day, then traveled further down the calendar.. A couple weeks from that day, almost an entire week was blocked out in bright fluorescent yellow highlighter, “JO’S GRADUATION!!” printed in bold red marker across most of the squares. He stared at it for a long moment, sour feelings swirling their way through him like curdled milk.  

He felt so bad, that Lance wouldn’t see his parents then. That Jo would have her graduation and that Mrs. and Mr. Fonseca wouldn’t be there to witness it. Sympathy pangs, almost, seemed to reverberate through his chest at the thought of how hard it must be for them. Not having your parents there for such an important part of your life… he kind of got that. 

But he couldn’t help the feeling of something like relief from hitting him as well; once the shock had worn off the night before, once they’d settled down into bed and he’d had a chance to really go through the situation in his mind, the realization hit him. 

He wouldn’t have to meet Lance’s parents.

Not yet, not in person, not for another while. And fuck, the trip suddenly felt ten times easier to bear, felt somehow lighter on his shoulders, because yeah meeting Lance’s sisters and his cousin and aunt and uncle was daunting, but it was somehow less terrifying than meeting his parents. The parents Lance absolutely adored, unconditionally, to like the ends of the earth and beyond and all that crap. Keith didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t accept him, and that anxiety was threatening to make the entire trip a wash, he knew it. But not having them there… Keith gelt the guilt twist like a knife in his guy, he shouldn’t feel  _ happy _ about it but... he sort of did. 

You’re not out of the fire yet, he told himself dourly, turning from the calendar towards the kitchen table. There was still going to be plenty of family members there to mess up with, and considering his luck with first impressions? Messing up was almost guaranteed.

With a sigh, Keith tossed his phone onto the table, wincing at the thump, and pulled his hoodie off the chair with the intent of giving it the sniff test. Something weighed heavily in one of its pockets, and his forehead creased as he poked his hand into it. He pulled out a leather corded bracelet. There were several stones set among the rich brown weaving, some in shades of blue and some off-white and a couple that were an almost translucent cobalt. For a moment he eyed it in confusion, wheels turning in his head as he tried to remember when - oh, that was right. He’d stopped for coffee at the Wormhole the day before and they’d had a table set up inside with various artist’s pieces set out for sale. The bracelet had caught his eye immediately, and he’d gotten it for Lance without another thought. He didn’t know if Lance would even want to wear it, but it was pretty and Lance liked pretty things so…

How he hadn’t given it to Lance yet, Keith didn’t know, but knowing him he was in too much of a mind-wipe after work to remember it - oh, and he was pretty focused on dinner too. That would do it. Setting his hoodie back down, the bracelet still in hand, he headed to the counter to grab a post it note and a pen. Coiling the bracelet up he set it carefully next to the kettle, a spot he knew Lance couldn’t miss, then wrote a short note on the post it.

_ Saw it & thought of you _

He eyed it a moment, pursing his lips, then added,

_ Love you _

underneath, and for good measure added a little, carefully drawn heart right next to the last line. 

Patting the post it onto the bracelet, and hoping Feebs wouldn’t try to play with it, he set the pen aside. With a sigh, he turned away and headed to get ready.

 

-

 

Keith came home to find Lance curled up on the couch, back to the armrest and laptop propped up on his knees. He glanced up from the screen as Keith kicked off his sneakers, sending him a cheerful grin, but it was tight and his eyes were a little red. 

“I'm talking to  _ mami y papi,”  _ Lance said, motioning at the laptop. Keith shrugged off his hoodie and debated about going over to say hello. He usually did, even if it took him a bit work up to it. It wasn’t like they were jerks or anything, after all, they were actually really nice and seemed to actually be happy about seeing him when he did pop up on the screen. He might have been incapable of properly speaking or understanding Spanish, and their English might’ve been broken and limited, but they still had had several conversations, simple but nice. He just… was still kind of wary that it might be  _ that moment _ when they realize that hey, they actually don’t like this awkward weirdo who was dating their son...even if they’d never even implied anything other than good nature towards him… Honestly, they knew he was there by that point, and it was getting into a long silence where Lance was dodging his eyes between the screen and Keith and-

Yeah, it wouldn’t be right for him to avoid saying hi at least, Keith decided. Not after the bombshell of the day before. He hoped they’d already talked about it - he assumed they had to, seeing as Lance looked like he’d just had his tearful moment, and Keith hoped there’d be no lingering tension. He was anxious enough talking to Lance’s parents as it was, nice or not, and that day the anxiety was spiking more than usual thanks to the godawful guilt still twisting in his stomach. He couldn’t stop his inner emotions from warring all day long, and he was honestly getting nauseous from it all. 

Still, he choked back the bile as he pulled off his hoodie, hanging it carefully on the back of a chair. 

“I want to say hi,” He said as he walked over, settling into a crouch by the couch and leaning his arm on the armrest behind Lance’s back so he could look at the screen.

Lance’s parents looked back at him, grins on their faces though their eyes looked tired. They were seated in their usual seat at the internet cafe, Keith noted, the corner with the seascape painting hung on the pale yellow wall. Mrs. Fonseca still had a few tears at the corner of her eyes, which she wiped away hurriedly before beaming a smile at Keith as Mr. Fonseca patted her shoulder soothingly.

“ _ Buenos tardes _ , Keith,” He said, his voice smooth and low, a stark contrast to his son’s. 

“ _ Buenos tardes, _ ” Keith responded, aiming for a grin. “How are you?”

“Good,” Lance’s mother responded, her eyes still glistening but her smile wide and warm on her face. “Sad, but… o-kay.”

Lance’s father put his arm around her shoulder and said slowly, “We… we will come. Just-” a look of concentration came across his face - “ _ un poco _ , ah, a little later.”

“We’ll definitely see you when you come,” Keith said, with slightly more assurance than he felt inside. Lance leaned his head over a little, his temple resting against Keith’s cheek. 

It was about that time when a beeping suddenly sounded, and Mrs. and. Mr. Fonseca’s eyes averted to the top right of the screen.

“Time’s up,” Lance said with an attempt at cheer. He exchanged some last words with his parents, though the meaning of almost all of them flew right over Keith’s head. He managed to pick out “ _ te amo _ ” as they ended their conversation, though, Lance’s mother blowing them a teary-eyed kiss.. Keith gave them a wave as they signed off, the video cutting out shortly after.

“Was there any news about the whole,” Keith paused a moment, considering how to mention it tactfully. “...thing?”

“Not, not really?” Lance said with a wavery sigh, slowly closing the laptop, head still tilted against Keith’s. “I mean, they figure since no one really refused it that they’ll probably get the visa eventually just… It’s gonna take some time.”

“Hm…” Keith leaned back a little, crouching lower as he looked Lance over. He was grinning but it was obviously strained, and even as Keith watched Lance rubbed a stray tear off his cheek. That was no good. Fuck, Keith hated it - not knowing what to do to make Lance feel better, not knowing how to make it right. With something between a determined huff and a sigh, he brushed his fingers through Lance’s hair to the base of his neck, laying a gentle kiss on his temple as his thumb softly stroked the back of his neck.

“Do I look that bad?” Lance asked with a chuckle. Keith frowned, puzzled, and pulled away a little.

“What?” He asked, trying to look at Lance but his boyfriend had leaned after himand was tucked in too close for him to do it.

“Every time I look real out of it or whatever you do that,” Lance grinned, nudged his head against Keith’s shoulder. Keith sighed, letting his arm drop to curl around Lance’s shoulder. Lance grunted, shoving his head harder against the side of Keith’s neck after a moment. “I didn’t say you had to stop.”

Keith rolled his eyes, lifting his hand back to run his fingers through the short hair at the back of Lance’s head, and Lance sighed, arms laying loosely over the laptop.

“And thanks for the bracelet babe,” He said softly, “it’s gorgeous.”

Keith felt his cheeks heat a little as he caught sight of it tied neatly onto Lance’s left wrist, with the stones glinting in the sunlight coming through the front window. 

“You like it?”

“I love it.” Lance assured him, pulling away suddenly so he could throw his arm around Keith’s neck. With a smirk he tugged him close and planted a kiss on his cheek. Keith snorted but, despite the discomfort of the whole position, let Lance pull him closer.

“So, how was your day?” Lance asked, head on Keith’s shoulder again as he ran a finger along the edge of the laptop. “Anything interesting happen?”

Keith took a moment to page through his experiences at work that day, trying to think of one that wasn’t absolutely boring as hell or mind numbingly tedious.

“A driver took a shit at this one shipping facility,” He said eventually, landing on the one interesting thing that had happened that day. “Like, on the ground by his truck, in plain view of like everyone around.”

“What did you just say to me?” Lance's voice was uncharacteristically controlled and monotone, and he’d gone a bit stiff. Keith quirked an eyebrow at him, puzzled.

“I said a driver took a sh-”

“I know the words that came out of your mouth,” Lance interrupted, holding up a hand to shush Keith. “I'm trying to understand why you thought you needed to tell me that.”

“You asked me if anything interesting happened,” Keith answered gruffly, reaching up to ruffle Lance’s hair.. 

“I don't need to hear about drivers taking dumps on private property, Keith,” Lance said with a grimace, leaning away from Keith as if Keith was the one who’d done the disgusting act.

“You're the one always telling me I need to share more,” Keith responded with a frown. Okay, so it wasn’t a fun story but what else was he going to talk about? The five times he had to give driver’s directions to places that they ended up being right across the street from and just didn’t realize?

“Yeah, about yourself not about your crazy drivers,” Lance huffed, shifting so he could place the laptop on the coffee table. He shot Keith a dirty look. “Why do you tell me these things?”

Keith rolled his eyes, patting Lance’s head one last time as he finally stood up from the rapidly-becoming-uncomfortable crouch. He winced at the creak in one of his knees as he straightened, eyeing Lance for a long moment once he was upright. He looked like he was ready to crash for like… a while, what with the red eyes and the sullen expression and the obvious weariness in his eyes.

“What?” Lance asked, picking up on Keith’s gaze despite being focused on shoving the laptop over to the far side of the coffee table.

“We’re supposed to go to Hunk’s tonight, right?” Keith asked, wondering if it was a good idea or not considering everything that had happened. It was hard for him to tell, sometimes, what Lance needed when he was in a bad mood or place or whatever. Sometimes Keith figured he needed space, like Keith himself did, and sometimes Lance  _ did _ but sometimes he needed to be social and sometimes he was clingy and needed to like be held or whatever. Keith was still trying to figure out what he needed, and when.

“Game night, that’s right,” Lance said cheerfully, standing and stretching his arms over his head so the hem of his tank rode up. Unable to resist, Keith poked at the exposed skin and Lance chuckled, “You okay to go?”

“Uh, yeah?” Keith shot him a bemused look, puzzled that Lance would even ask because he’d actually been looking forward to it - he’d even  _ tried _ to suggest a game but got shot down by Pidge and her personal ban on any and all racing games. Then he remembered just how many game nights and movie nights he’d missed over the winter and... Yeah, he might’ve not always been in the right mood for them, so maybe it wasn’t a surprise that Lance was asking. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“I am  _ so ready _ to have a good time,” Lance exhaled, crossing his arms behind his head and shooting Keith a smirk. “Besides, we’re playing  _ Infinite Warfare _ tonight and I’m not passing up the chance to absolutely demolish your ass.”

“Isn’t that a co-op multiplayer?” Keith asked with a raised eyebrow, backing away towards the kitchen as Lance followed.

“Uh, does it matter? I’m still kicking your ass tonight either way.”

 

-

 

It didn’t take long for Keith to start wondering if Lance’s enthusiasm for the night wasn’t a little put on. The closer the time to head out to Hunk and Shay’s came, the more on edge he noticed Lance getting. Not, like, overtly, but in the little ways - like how he took extra care picking out his clothes or how he had to fix his hair six times before he finally walked out of the bathroom, or the way he triple-checked that Feebs had fresh water. He couldn’t help but wonder, again, if this outing was going to do Lance any good.

“You ready?” Keith asked as he pulled on a clean shirt while Lance tied his shoes. The shirt had a cartoony jackalope on it holding a whiskey bottle, a gift from Pidge after she’d gone to visit Matt for a few weeks earlier that spring.

“Yeah,” Lance responded, sounding somewhat distant. 

“You sure you wanna go tonight?” Keith asked as he stepped closer to him, wondering if Lance realized just how uneasy he looked right then, his shoulders stiff and the lines of his face drawn like they were.

Lance shot him a calculating look, eyes narrowed slightly, as he responded, “I totally want to go. Do you want to go? Because, I mean, if you don’t want to go that’s all right, but I’m totally okay to go-”

“I wanna go too,” Keith said with a sigh, arms crossing. “I just…” He bit his lip and gave Lance a hard look. “You look really tense. You sure you’re okay?”

“That’s why I wanna go,” Lance exclaimed in a loud exhale, his head tilting back as his eyes rolled to the ceiling. Keith waited, slightly impatient, while Lance breathed in again, let out another loud exhale again, and  _ finally _ turned back to him to say. “I’m going.”

“Okay,” Keith spread his hands, and headed past Lance to grab his keys from the bowl on the counter. Lance stayed silent behind him, which was only another addition to his already unnerving behavior that night, and when Keith turned back to face him he found Lance fidgeting with one of his spinner rings. His eyes met Keith’s, and his forehead wrinkled, a frustrated look coming to his face.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Can...can you not say anything?” Lance asked, his frustrated looking turning odd as he tried to suppress a wince and failed.

“About what?” Keith asked, frowning in confusion. 

“About… about my parents not coming,” Lance winced  _ again _ , as if just the thought alone was painful, “I just don’t want… I don’t want to think about it tonight.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?” Keith asked, surprised, and when Lance shook his head continued in slight disbelief, “Not even Hunk?”

“Not yet,” Lance said, looking away. Keith almost couldn’t believe it - he was pretty sure Lance told Hunk  _ everything _ \- there were quite a few things Hunk had brought up in conversations with Keith that Keith was dead certain he’d never told him - and honestly the two were so in tune sometimes it was scary. Keith got to see it first hand often, and it was a bit intimidating when they understood each other in half a sentence or with just intricate hand movements. Secretly, he wondered if he’d ever be that in tune with Lance. Ever.

But if Lance hadn’t told Hunk yet, hadn’t gone to him as soon as he found out, then… Keith didn’t know what to think. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, wondering what it meant. What it all meant. It meant something.

Lance shot a smile his way, bright even though there was that hint of sadness in his eyes, but the relief was plain to see.

“Thanks babe,” He said, stepping closer to lay his arms on Keith’s shoulders and tap their foreheads together. “I just… I just wanna have fun tonight. Not think about anything, just for a bit.”

“All right,” Keith said, taking the moment to bask in the embrace, in the warmth of Lance right next to him and the feeling of their arms around each other, before giving him a soft kiss,  “Let’s go have fun then.”

  
  


They made it to Hunk and Shay’s place half-past seven. Keith walked quickly towards the door, hood pulled up to guard against the drizzle that had began to fall on the way there, but Lance hung back - of course he held back. Keith would’ve rushed him inside, as there was a cool wind and Lance had caught the sniffles from lingering in the rain before (Lance had managed to milk that for all of two days before Keith gave up on his half-assed nurse bit), but he let him indulge himself this time. It really was only a light drizzle, and Lance really get into it, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, the smile on his face growing as droplets gathered and ran across his face - and how could Keith deny him the little pleasures in life, especially on that night?

So Keith stood in the tiny alcove of the doorway, leaning against the wall, and waited for Lance to have his moment. It wasn’t a bad sight, after all; the clouds were light, not the dark coal of thunderclouds but a soft, pale gray that the light wind whipped along at a fast pace. The sun pierced through them here and there, reflecting off a car’s mirror or lighting up a patch of the sidewalk. Lance stood among it all, his olive green jacket damp at his shoulders and drops of rain caught on the tips of his hair, a tiny glint of light flashing at the tip of his nose as a stray beam of sunlight was caught by a droplet. He looked pretty in the rain, Keith thought, looked free in the rain. Looked weightless. 

Another moment passed, and Lance heaved a sigh, eyes opening up to look up into the sky, squinting against the still-falling drizzle. He turned to Keith then, his bright smile turning slightly bashful, a blush spreading across his cheeks, as if embarrassed to find Keith watching him. His blue eyes were brighter, however, far brighter than they had been all day, bluer than they had been, as if the rain had washed all the dark worries away.

“Ready to go?” Keith asked with a soft grin he hadn’t even noticed forming on his face. Fuck Lance and fuck the effect his stupid boyfriend had on him.

“Yeah, I guess we should get inside,” Lance said with a dramatic sigh, flipping an imaginary forelock, “Party can’t start without me, after all.”

Keith rolled his eyes, turning to ring the doorbell as Lance made his way over. They were buzzed in shortly later, and after dragging their shoes over the rugs in the front entrance they raced their way up the first flight of stairs (Lance won but  _ only _ because he tugged on the back of Keith’s shirt halfway up and Keith was forced to grab onto the railing). Shay opened the door before they even got to it, grinning as they headed in.

“Here,” She said, face crinkling with the width of her amused smile as she offered Lance a small towel that he accepted with a grin.

“You know me too well,” He laughed, shrugging off his jacket to hang on one of the hooks by the door before he began drying off his hair.

“How’s it going?” Keith asked as he hung his jacket on the hook next to Lance’s.

“It is going well,” Shay said, and then her grin grew and she giggled into her hand, “Or as well as it can be with Hunk trying out a new recipe.”

“Shay!” Hunk’s voice belted from the kitchen area. “I can’t find the phyllo - where’s the phyllo? We need the phyllo  _ stat _ .”

“It is on the counter next to the food processor,” Shay called back, giving Keith and Lance a grin and a roll of her eyes as she headed back to the kitchen. “Under the tea towel…”

A snort from the living room attracted Keith’s attention, and he looked over to see a familiar rumple of mussed-up hair poking above the backrest of the couch.

“Pidge, you’re here,” He said, grinning as he walked over to the couch. He hadn’t seen Pidge in awhile, not since they’d met up for coffee a week - was it a week or was it more? - back, and even though he knew she was coming that night it was still really good to see her. He missed having her around all the time, even if she wasn’t technically  _ around _ but cooped up in her room. Just knowing she had been there had been good enough. 

“Hey Loser,” Pidge said with a smirk, then patted the couch next to her. “Sit your butt down, I wanna show you something.”

Curious, Keith sat next to her and leaned in a little to see the screen of her laptop. There were something like blueprints… or plans… something made up of lines and lots of notation on the screen, filling it to the brim. He frowned in concentration as he tried to make sense of the intersecting lines. Then Pidge tapped at her keyboard and most of the notations disappeared, leaving the image a bit more visible than before, and Keith could finally put together the shape that was outlined on the screen. It was roundish, with tapering edges and a bulbous core, though the slope from the edges to the central core was tapered and built up of various geometric shapes like those he’d seen on stealth bombers.

“What’s that?” Keith asked, and Pidge’s smirk grew.

“THAT is what Hunk and me, and the other people of the-”

“SUPER SECRET ROBOT HACKER CLUB!” Lance interrupted loudly, propping his hands on the couch back so he could look at the screen as well. “Oh man, are we getting to see your super secret designs now? Finally! It’s been  _ forever _ !”

“We’re not a super secret robot hacker club,” Pidge said with some disdain, her smirk tipping into a frown and her eyebrows lowering. “We’re a super secret space-age aeronautical design club. To put it in layman’s terms. Which is terms  _ you _ two can understand.”

“Oh,” Lance said, face falling, while Keith eyed Pidge with some puzzlement. Then Lance’s face screwed up with indignation, and he shoved Pidge’s shoulder. “Hey, what’s up with that? Aeronautics? You couldn’t tell us?” He motioned to himself and Keith. “We like the flying things!”

“That’s true,” Keith said, picking up on his boyfriend’s indignation and making it his own as he leaned back a little and crossed his arms. “We  _ do _ like the flying things.”

“Ugh,” Pidge groaned, eyes rolling skyward. “What part of “super secret” do you two not understand?”

Lance and Keith shared an amused look, but they both still turned a pout on Pidge a moment later, who gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Whatever, I don’t care. Just look.” She tapped away at her keyboard again, and the plans on her screen were overlaid with a color mock up of the...craft… that made it look like a flying saucer. Sort of.

“So what  _ is  _ it?” Keith asked, crossed arms falling away as he leaned over to peer curiously at the screen once again.

“ _ That,  _ my friends, is a whole new type of aircraft. We’ve been working on this design for  _ ever _ and we’re finally going to present it to prospective sponsors in the next few weeks,” Pidge said with obvious glee, her eyes brightening as she looked at it. “Look, we’ve planned for special alloys for its structure to give it stability and flexibility, along with some new-age mechanics we’re developing for stealth tech. Right?”

“How’s it going to fly without wings?” Keith interjected, both curious and a little distrusting of the design. On the one hand, it looked like a flying saucer, on the other hand - how the hell was it going to fly?

“Uh, well, so it’s technically not going to fly like you’re used to,” Pidge explained, beginning to motion with her hands. “It’s not going to have jet propulsion, the whole system is based on mag propulsion that utilizes an internal system that would react to the earth’s magnetic forces and utilize that reaction to- why are you looking at it like that Keith?”

Keith pulled his eyes from the screen to Pidge instead, frowning a little. “Like what?”

“Like it’s dog shit or something.”

“It’s just,” Keith thought a second, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. “It’s not going to fly.”

Pidge looked unimpressed by his comment, and Keith thought she might not understand him. He… he meant it wasn’t going to  _ fly _ . It wasn’t going to soar and it wasn’t going to have the wind speed it along. It wasn’t going to work with - or against- updrafts or downdrafts, it wasn’t going to dive into low swoops relying on the wind pressure to support it. It wasn’t going to  _ fly _ .

“It’s going to fly.” Pidge said firmly. “Just, differently than you’re used to.”

Well, that was  _ exactly _ Keith’s problem.

“It’s gonna do that UFO thing, right?” Lance added, having settled with his arms crossed on top of the couch backrest and his chin resting on them. He was eyeing the craft thoughtfully. “Where it just like, zips around, right? And hovers and stuff. Keith, it’s totally a UFO ship thing.”

“But it won’t like, fly,” Keith answered sullenly. He didn’t even know why he was so against it. Sure, it was cool. UFO’s were cool and this was like, a real live (in the planning stages) flying saucer which made it  _ extra _ cool, but it wasn’t a plane. “It’s not a plane.”

“It’s an aircraft.” Pidge shot back resolutely, a challenging look in her eyes as she glared at Keith.

“Can it ride air currents?” He shot back, rising to the unspoken challenge even though he knew it was stupid. This was all stupid, why was he getting worked up about it? “Where’s the flaps?”

“There aren’t any  _ it doesn’t need any _ .”

“What’s the point then?”

“The point is that it will revolutionize air travel! For like, CENTURIES to come!”

“I don’t like it,” Keith said with a huff, crossing his arms again as he shot a glare at the computer screen. 

“Oh my god, you  _ plane purist _ ,” Pidge groaned, and that comment broke through Keith’s moodiness a bit, enough to make him have to fight against a grin. “This is a major breakthrough of technology.”

“Yeah Keith, I mean, I know it’s not like, a plane-plane but you gotta admit,” Lance said, sounding impressed, “This is pretty fucking awesome.”

Keith, no longer so sullen but still a little ticked off, shot him a dirty look over his shoulder, and Lance cocked an eyebrow at him.

“What? This is like, super sci-fi stuff. It’s cool!” Lance said, freeing one hand to wave it at the laptop and just barely missing smacking Pidge in the head.

Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance, feigning offense at what was  _ obviously _ a betrayal.

“I’m not talking to you anymore.” Keith said with a put on huff, turning away to look at the muted TV but not before he noted the shocked look that filtered onto Lance’s face. He focused on the screen instead of wondering if  _ this _ was the right moment to be picking on Lance but - there was some commercial about toilet paper playing and Keith suddenly regretted playing the offended party in this little-not-really-argument as cartoon bears started shaking their butts on screen.

“Dude, come  _ on _ ,” Lance said with a groan. Keith resisted the urge to look back at him.

“What is going on?” Shay’s voice reached them, poking her head out of the kitchen to give them a puzzled look.

“Keith hates technology and he isn’t talking to Lance because of it,” Pidge stated plainly, tapping away at her laptop.

“What did you do?” Shay asked, gaze turning to Lance.

“Me? Why is it always something I did?!” Lance’s voice rose an octave and Keith couldn’t keep a grin from twitching onto his lips at the sound. Lance’s indignation turned morose as he continued “I didn’t do anything, Keith’s just being a jerk.”

“Keith,” Shay said with a soft authoritative tone. “Please stop being a jerk.”

“I’ll try,” Keith responded, and Pidge snorted at his words.

“Good luck,” she chuckled, and maybe Keith should have felt a little betrayed, again, that Lance laughed at that but considering he’d just been being an ass for no reason other than to be one, he didn’t. Instead he turned to face Lance, eyeing him curiously.

“If you could fly an F-22 or this thing,” Keith said, motioning at the screen. “Which would you pick?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question?” Lance scoffed, “Obviously the F-22, come on.”

“I’ll remember that when we’ll be considering test pilots for the craft,” Pidge interjected.

“Wh- wait, hold up, I didn’t say I  _ didn’t _ want to fly it!” Lance pushed himself upright, “I just… I just said hypothetically-”

Keith chuckled, falling back against the armrest as Lance pleaded with Pidge to allow him to be one of the first people to go inside their prototype. Shay and Hunk’s voices drifted out of the kitchen, raising and lowering in volume as they added a pleasant little soundtrack to the whole situation, and Keith realized he felt good. Like, right there, with everyone engaging with each other around him, within this space of knowing that he was somewhere where people wanted him to be, where they accepted him. It was nice. And wow, he didn’t think it was time for a  _ moment _ but apparently it was, because he was getting all warm and fuzzy inside and nothing had even happened, nothing spectacular and nothing grand. It was just them, together in the same space, talking and being kind of jerks and just existing around each other - but maybe that’s what he really needed, when it came down to it. Being alone was something he could manage but he was starting to realize that it wasn’t what he needed. Loneliness was a horrible friend, and he preferred being around people - even if he wasn’t engaging with them - over being all by himself.

“Hey buddy,” Lance’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Keith started as he realized he’d been staring off at a point in the distance for… must’ve been a bit. Long enough for Lance to notice, if the curious and slightly concerned way he was looking at Keith was any indication. Lance’s hand was on Keith’s shoulder, but it quickly moved up to ruffle his hair. “You okay over there?”

“I’m good,” Keith laughed, leaning against the warmth of Lance’s palm on his head. “I’m really good, actually. Right now.”

“This calls for a fucking celebration,” Pidge snarked, and laughed when Keith swatted at her arm. He knew she didn’t mean it badly.

“All right everybody!” Hunk entered the room, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “I got the phyllo cups in the oven, we’ve got some chips and stuff to start off with, I think we’re ready to get this party started!”

Lance and Pidge cheered - but that cut off abruptly as suddenly and without warning the apartment was plunged into darkness.

“Uh, what just happened?” Lance asked, hand still curled in Keith’s hair. The only light left was the glow of Pidge’s laptop and the shine of the streetlights outside.

“The power seems to have gone out,” Shay said, stepping out of the kitchen and up to Hunk. “I looked out the kitchen window and it looks like the neighboring house has lost their power as well, there are no lights on.”

“What? WAIT-” Hunk threw his arms out, in sudden panic, “The oven. Is the oven off?”

“The oven is off-”

“The phyllo cups-”

“Hunk, love, calm down,” Shay said soothingly. “Let us call the power company, maybe they know what is going on? Yes?”

“Okay, you’re right. Call the power company, I’ll check on the phyllo cups,” Hunk said, calming down a bit but still rushing into the kitchen.

“Maybe it is only temporary,” Shay pulled her phone out of her pocket, the screen flashing to life as she tapped it awake. She dialed the power company as the others waited.

“What’re they saying, Shay? Hun, are they saying it’s going to come back on soon?” Hunk asked, appearing from out of the darkened kitchen doorway to hover over her shoulder.

“They are saying that crews have been dispatched to our area,” Shay said evenly, “Estimated time for recovery is… four hours.”

“What?!” Hunk exclaimed.

“Are you serious?” Pidge groaned, sliding down into a deep slouch on the couch. “I came over for  _ this _ ?”

“This sucks,” Lance muttered, freeing his hand from Keith’s hair so he could cross his arms on the couch back again, chin resting on them. Keith couldn’t imagine the position was comfortable - what, was Lance kneeling or something to pull it off? 

“I’m sorry, but it sounds like we won’t be getting it back any time soon.” Shay said with a sigh, turning to Hunk. “The refrigerator should be okay as long as we don’t open it.”

“Yeah, but my phyllo cups.” Hunk pouted.

“Maybe we can put them in the freezer for now? Just wrap them well and do it very quickly,” Shay suggested.

“All right,” Hunk said, “Come on, I’ll need your help for this operation.”

“Operation save the phyllo cups,” Shay giggled, following Hunk back into the kitchen.

“This bites,” Pidge grumbled, tapping away at her laptop. The plans were no longer on screen, replaced by a browser window opened to random webpage. “I can’t even get a wifi signal now. Everyone’s router is out.”

“Yeah, that usually happens when there’s no electricity,” Lance sighed. Keith could see him clearly in the light from the laptop, could see his expression had fallen from just a few moments ago, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the overall sense that whatever weird bubble of happy that had been growing was beginning to dissipate like it’d never existed. Most of all, he didn’t like how a night that was supposed to be a good time for Lance, and that was supposed to take his mind off of the shitty news of the day before, was being ruined so spectacularly.

They were supposed to have fun that night, they were supposed to relax and have a good time and here they were, surrounded by darkness and getting moody because all the good things they were waiting for weren’t going to happen.

“We should do something else,” Keith said, speaking before he could even form a full thought, because he had to keep them moving, metaphorically speaking, had to keep whatever shred of good time they still had left rolling. 

“Like what?” Pidge asked monotonously, tapping halfheartedly at the keyboard. 

Keith looked at her and her bored expression, then he looked at Lance and the dejected way his eyebrows had dropped, and then he thought about what everyone there could enjoy, something that all of them would be okay with. There had to be something they could do, other than mope around in the darkness. Pidge’s place was out of the question, considering she’d let all her tech spill out of her room as soon as Keith had moved out. Should everyone go back to their place? It was smaller than Shay and Hunk’s but they’d all fit. Maybe they could go back to their place? Play games or watch a movie… but then he thought about how Lance would probably want to be away from home, somewhere where he wouldn’t be reminded of what had happened, and nixed that thought. There had to be something, though, something he could think of...

“How about…” He started, and noticed how Lance’s eyes settled on him, not quite expectantly but almost like it. What did Lance like to do? What would guarantee that he had a good time? Keith thought, and suddenly the idea came to him with startling clarity:  “How about that club? The one Hunk and Shay said had opened a few weeks ago?”

Lance’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and Pidge’s tapping paused.

“You want to go to a club?” She asked, turning to give Keith a shrewd look.

“I like clubs,” Keith said defensively, because he did. Not even in theory but in practice; they’d gone out plenty of times in the past year, after all. Maybe he wasn’t up for it over the past months, especially in the winter, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy clubs. He just… liked quieter ones, with less people and stuff. But he liked them all the same.

Lance, on the other hand,  _ loved _ clubs.

“Yes!” He exclaimed as soon as he’d processed what Keith had said, pushing himself upright again and Keith had no idea now, whether he’d been kneeling behind the couch before or not. It didn’t matter, even in the darkness it was apparent that Lance’s eyes were shining and that he was grinning widely and that was good. Keith grinned too.

“Hunk, Shay! We’re going to the club!” Lance called out happily.

“What club?” Hunk called back.

“That one that just opened, the one where the name is just numbers or whatever?” Lance replied, ruffling Keith’s hair again in his enthusiasm. “Hurry up let’s _go_.”  
“Calm down Lance,” Shay said as she left the kitchen, but she sounded amused. “I must change if we are going out.”

“Then do it quick, come on,” Lance groaned with impatience.

“So demanding,” Pidge laughed, closing her laptop and sliding it onto the coffee table. “Hunk, I’m leaving my stuff here.”

“Sounds good,” Hunk said, finally coming out of the kitchen as well. He seemed much more relaxed than he had when he’d been entering it, though it was hard to see his expression now that the laptop was off and the only light came from the streetlamps outside. “Oh and you’re all welcome to crash here if you’re a bit too tipsy to get home.”

“A bit too tipsy, he says,” Lance snorted.

“I’m not carrying you out of there this time,” Keith said with a grin, yanking on Lance’s hand for emphasis.

“Uh, excuse you, you didn’t  _ carry _ me, short stack,” Lance responded, leaning over the back of the couch to wrap his arms around Keith’s neck and nuzzled his hair. Keith poked his cheek in retaliation - two inches and Lance acted like he was  _ so much taller _ .

“Sorry, drag you. I’m not dragging you out of there this time,” Keith amended.

“You didn’t drag me, you supported me as I stumbled my way back here.” Lance clarified, voice muffled against Keith’s hair. “And then passed out on the floor.”

“And you took pictures of me passed out on the floor.”

“Pidge helped.” Lance said cheerfully.

“It was too great a chance to pass up,” Pidge affirmed with a shrug, and Keith shot a glare her direction. She stuck her tongue out at him, eyes glinting mischievously. “You think I’d ever pass up an opportunity for blackmail?”

“Ready!” Shay’s voice reached them, and the light from her phone lit the living room up with a ghostly light as she headed back to the group. “ So are we going?”

“Yes!” Lance exclaimed, shooting upright, and Keith had to laugh at his enthusiasm. “Let’s get the part rollin’!”

 

-

 

An hour later found Keith leaning against the bar, staring down into his rum and coke. Hunk and Shay were next to him, discussing the project that Pidge had shown them before. He’d tried to keep up with Hunk’s explanations at first, all the talk about electromagnetic propulsion and how they could utilize the difference between on board mag systems and the earth’s magnetic field to achieve the ability to hover and change position but… Keith didn’t have a technical mind, and while the could catch the gist of it the majority of Hunk’s explanation was flying right over his head, far far above where he couldn’t reach it even if he tried. He could figure out parts of the mathematical things Hunk had been talking about, but eventually it all got to be too much. Too much information, too much thinking, and between that and the crowd and the way things were both too bright and too dim in the club, Keith found his grasp on the day, the moment, the  _ second _ , his grasp on what was going on, weakening. He was suddenly very far away from being  _ there _ , and desperate to return to the okay state he’d been in, to the happiness he’d felt just a short while ago as they all were walking to the club, bantering with good humor, he let his eyes wander and tried to find something to ground him.

He found Lance instead, Lance mingling out on the dance floor, dancing with someone Keith couldn’t make out through the crowd. It didn’t matter, Keith didn’t mind when Lance danced with other people, he didn’t even mind it much when Lance flirted with other people because Lance was a flirt, but he wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t a cheater, and he tried not to give people the wrong impression. No, it wasn’t the fact that Lance was out there, enjoying himself dancing with someone else, that did the exact opposite of grounding Keith - it was Lance  _ enjoying _ himself, looking legitimately happy out there, letting loose with an energy and verve that Keith hadn’t see in…

Fuck. Keith’s head spun a little with misplaced thoughts. That winter had been bad, he thought. It had been rough for him and it had to have been worse for Lance, and… and he hadn’t seen Lance this happy in a while, and he couldn’t help but think it was his fault. That winter was  _ bad _ , and he was certain it could’ve been so much better if he hadn’t been so touchy and so faded and so irritable at every little thing. Lance would’ve been happier. Everything would have been better if only he’d been able to just...not be such a shit.

This was not a good thing to be thinking about in the middle of a loud club. The music was oppressive and the lights made everything seemed out of focus - maybe he wasn’t as okay with going out to a club that night as he’d so confidently stated before. He’d felt so good though, he’d wanted to go out and have some fun but now all he could do was flounder in the midst of it all. The heat of multiple people milling around, the voices rising and falling among the beats that blasted from the speakers, all of it suddenly so overwhelming. Why couldn’t he relax? Why couldn’t he focus? Why couldn’t he just let himself enjoy this?

He curled his hands around the sweating glass and closed his eyes, struggling to get his thoughts under some sort of control.

_ Breathe in _ , he thought, like how he said it to Lance when he’d have a bad come down after a show.  _ Breathe in with me, slow, just like this.  _ Sometimes Lance would let him hold him but sometimes he didn’t want to be touched, sometimes he just wanted to hear Keith talking him through it so Keith did.  _ Now let it out slow, you’re doing great _ . Shakey post-show Lance was so much easier to deal with than panic attack Lance, Keith thought, breathing in again shakily. Way easier to calm down. Way easier to deal with.

“You’re doing great,” he told himself quietly, though he could barely hear himself, just said it to feel the words vibrate over his lips, to make it real.

“Funny, you don’t look like you are.”

Keith opened his eyes, glancing over to find Pidge standing next to him, empty glass on the bar. She was eyeing him curiously, like he was a piece of code she was trying to crack, fingers tapping against her glass rhythmically.

“You okay?” She asked finally, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Keith responded, breathing out roughly and glancing at his own glass. The ice had already melted a bit from the heat of his hands, and when he took a sip the rum and coke tasted watered down. 

“This-” Pidge nodded her head towards the main part of the club, “-not too much for you tonight?”

“Nope,” Keith said, eyeing the mass of people on the floor with what he hoped looked like nonchalance. Was it a lie? Well, things were a bit loud and everywhere, but it was a little more manageable now that he’d taken a second to get his head refocused. Sort of. He'd just gotten caught up in his own thoughts and hit a spiral by accident and...fuck, sometimes he wished he could switch his current headspace with the one he had back at the Garrison. He didn't know if it was technically better, back then, but it wasn't such an oppressive downer like his current headspace. It didn't stuff his head full of cotton some days or spark the anxiety across his nerves others, it didn't build a deep, dark hole inside of him right in his blind spot where he could stumble into it by accident at any given moment. It didn’t get overwhelmed by the tiniest increase of sensory stimulation to the point of dissociating. That had to be better than what he had right then.

Sometimes he really thought everything was better back then, easier. Everything made sense.

Sure, he couldn't always handle the methodical routine of the Garrison back then. Sure, it grated on his nerves when he couldn't do things the way  _ he _ wanted to do them, when he had to follow a schedule that he was both glad to have and hated because he couldn't arrange it in a way that worked better for him. Sure, sometimes he had to let that irritation loose, break the rules in some small way, do anything to let himself feel a rush, to feel like he could breathe again.

But he had something back then, something to focus on, something to work towards. He  _ was _ something back then.

He had a head that worked, for the most part, and a purpose in his life and…

“You ever miss the Garrison?” Keith asked, voice low enough that he didn’t even know if Pidge would pick up on it over the constant hum of the crowd.

She did, of course, because little escaped Pidge’s attention if she wasn’t glued to a keyboard and computer screen.

“Uh, no?” She responded with a snort, fixing him with an incredulous look. “Why, do you?”

“No,” Keith responded in kind, though the memories filtered through, sharpened by a pang of nostalgia - of escapes into the dusty fields surrounding the Garrison at midnight, of the simulator runs that left him breathless and aching for more, of the first real flight above the dry earth with the horizon so far, far ahead of him and the blue sky deep and endless above, of talking with, laughing with, spending time with S-

He tossed back the rest of his drink, the ice melted enough that he swallowed it easily with the liquid and it burned a line of cold down his throat. This wasn’t the time or the place, he told his head. The memories faded, and he slid his glass to the side. He turned to Pidge, not quite sure what he was going to say but there were words on his tongue that were waiting to leave his mouth - but before he could spit them out arms were wrapping around his shoulders and a body was falling against his.

“Keith,” Lance’s breath tickled the side of his neck, “There you are.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, turning towards the bartender as Keith tried to shift to face Lance. With how Lance was clinging to him, leaning his full weight onto Keith’s back, it was proving a bit difficult.

“Hey,” Keith took a deep breath, finally managing to wrangle Lance around so he could loop an arm around his waist. Lance was looking mighty happy right then, cheeks flushed with the exertion of dancing, hair ruffled because he’d no doubt been running his fingers through it while he danced. His eyes were bright despite the fact that he’d probably downed at least twice the amount of alcohol that Keith had by that point, almost painfully blue as the club lights hit them, and his grin was the tiniest bit crooked as he stared Keith down. There was something like a challenge in his eyes, something soft too though, that gave them a depth you could drown in. Keith kind of wanted to stare into those eyes for the rest of the night, without pause, because he never felt as good as when Lance was looking at him like  _ that _ .

“Hey baby, are you from outer space?” He said, eyes sliding to half-lidded and smirk growing. “Cuz your body’s out of this  _ world _ .”

“Wasting your best pick up line on me?” Keith lifted an eyebrow and grinned, “Really?”

“Only the best for the best,” Lance cooed, leaning in to kiss Keith. “Which you are, is what I’m saying.”

“I’m flattered,” Keith chuckled, pulling Lance just a tad bit closer until he could wrap both arms around him. His body was hot against Keith’s, his breath soft and warm against Keith’s cheek as he nuzzled against it. He looked so happy, so energized, so in his element that Keith almost felt happier and more energized just being close to him. Lance’s presence definitely helped to chase away some of the darker edges of his thoughts, at the very least, and Keith was very tempted to just latch onto him and not let go. Like, forever maybe. Just for that night, at least.

Lance had different plans, though - Keith could practically feel him vibrating with unspent energy, with the need to move and let it all out. So he wasn’t surprised when Lance dropped another kiss on his lips, then snuggled in closer to breathe “Let’s go dance” in his ear, like it was some sort of secret or something.

“You know how I am with dancing,” Keith protested slightly. 

“Come oooon,” Lance whined, pouting as he maneuvered out of Keith’s hold until he could grab Keith’s arm and physically try to tug him away from the bar. Keith glanced out onto the dance floor - the crowded, loud dance floor - then back at Lance and his adorable little pout.

“I don’t know if I’m there yet.” He was almost never ‘there’ when it came to dancing, not in public, not unless he’d had just enough alcohol to curb the slightly apprehension he got from the thought of having to dance in a crowd of people who could possibly see just how horrible he was at it.

“Then let’s get you there,” Lance said cheerfully, pout morphing almost instantly into a smirk as he leaned forward across the bar to grab the bartender’s attention.

“I’m not doing tequila shots,” Keith said firmly, even though he knew it was futile. 

Lance cocked an eyebrow at him, “Just a few.”

“Tequila gets me wasted,” Keith responded, frowning at him.

“That’s sort of the point, babe,” Lance snorted, hand rubbing Keith’s shoulder. His smirk turned to a thoughtful, almost hopeful grin, “Only a couple?”

“One.” Keith emphasized by holding up a finger.

“Two.” Lance responded holding up two fingers of his own, and followed up with the puppy-dog-eyes-plus-pout combo that he only ever pulled out when he really really wanted Keith to do something, because it was almost always guaranteed to work. 

Just like it did right then.

“Fine.” Keith sighed, unable to stay strong when faced with what was unarguably the most adorable expression Lance had the ability to make.

Then they were tossing back the shots in quick succession, and moving onto the dance floor almost before the glasses hit the bar. The alcohol burned the whole way down, the lights shuddered and danced around them, and Keith hoped it would be enough to keep him going that night because Lance looked so happy right then, hand clutching Keith’s tight as he tugged him along onto the dance floor. He looked so happy and he looked so pretty with the lights casting colors across his skin and shining off of his hair, with his eyes so bright when they caught Keiths. He laughed, tugging at Keith’s hips to get him moving, shouting something about shaking his ass to the beat and Keith felt the burn in his chest, a warmth that began to spread through him and spark energy into his limbs and he hoped, he hoped it would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I really love hearing from you all!
> 
> Keith's pretty disjointed lately and moody, which makes him hard to write. Huh.  
> Next chapter we start packing! :D


	8. UPDATE

Hey everyone,

 

Just wanted to write you all an update. I'm working on a couple things right now (my VLD Horror Zine fic and my Klance BB fic) so writing for BloodCam has taken a backseat for a little bit.

Beyond that, I've decided that I will be rewriting/rearranging/making Hematoma better. Work on that will start after I have finished my other fics. I won't be deleting this upload just renaming it and removing it from the series list. I don't think the rewrite will be drastically different in terms of scenes and what happens but the writing and pacing Wil be better. I think trying to write shorter chapters actually made me worse at writing, instead of letting the story dictate how it wanted to go and how long it wanted to be.

Anyways, I just wanted you all to know what's up. If you'd like to know when the new shiny Hematoma gets uploaded please subscribe to me as an author, or feel free to follow me on tumblr @ justbloodcamthings or Twitter @ itsdetachable

Thank you all for all your love and support. 

 

~Hollo

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think? 
> 
>  
> 
> [If you're looking for more BloodCam things and haven't yet, please check out the shorts: BloodCam: ER](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9559481)  
> [BloodCam: What Dragon Did That Come From?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9673337)


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